


Sunset Plaza

by LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Blow Jobs, Castiel and Dean Winchester Being Idiots, Dean in Panties, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Gabriel/Sam Winchester, POV Castiel, Porn with Feelings, Prompt Fic, Romantic Fluff, Sharing a Bed, Title Change, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-05-17 17:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 28,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14835726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch/pseuds/LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch
Summary: Castiel Novak hasn't had a vacation in years. It's just his luck that a flaw in the reservation system forces him to share a room with one obnoxious Dean Winchester.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a tumblr prompt. I just wrote a canon fic for this trope, so this time I settled for an AU version. Unbeta'd.

 

 

Cas doesn’t even try to conceal his exasperated sighs anymore.

The guy on the front desk is still chatting the clerk up. Now Cas knows all about his plans for the week, “I come to the Sunset Plaza every year, it’s always amazing” and “I wonder if my friend Charlie’s already here, could you check for me”?

Cas is pretty sure it’s a violation of the privacy policy, but the clerk seems absolutely unable to withstand that guy’s charm.

Cas only sees his back, faded jeans hug what looks like a nice ass and muscled thighs, and the fabric of his black shirt stretches nicely over broad, well-rounded shoulders. Cas changes the strap of his bag to the other shoulder and loosens his tie, once again cursing his brother. Gabriel had booked the holiday and only told Cas afterwards. Cas doesn’t need a vacation, he needs to work, the files on his desk will pile up even more while he’s gone, but Gabe didn’t budge, and when he wanted something, there was no stopping him.

The desk clerk is finally remembering his job and the line that built while he flirted with prince charming. “You have room 345. It’s a shared double with one… Cas-teel Novak?”

“Huh? No,” the guy in jeans says while Cas steps up to the desk. He only spares a glance at the guy next to him, before he fixes his gaze on the clerk.

“I am Castiel Novak, and I booked a single.”

The kid at the desk hacks away at his keyboard, a frown creasing his forehead. “Uhm, I have both your reservations here, and they state that you wanted single rooms, but there must be a bug in the system.” He looks really uncomfortable now. “I’m very sorry, but we have no other rooms available at the moment. I can give you separate rooms tomorrow.” He doesn’t meet Cas’ eyes, so Cas turns his anger towards the man next to him.

The words die in his mouth when he takes him in for the first time. His face – he is so gorgeous, it’s unfair. Deep green eyes, freckled skin, strong jaw, full lips. He looks like an indecent fantasy incarnate, and Cas’ tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth.

The guy reaches out with his right hand. “Dean Winchester.” He has the audacity to smile despite the situation. Cas grips his hand and realizes his palm is sweaty. He tugs it back quickly.

“Castiel Novak,” he bites through his teeth. One vacation in ten years and this is what happens. He wants to punch something.

“Hey”, Dean smiles, as if he doesn’t see Cas is seething with rage. “It’s only one night. Why don’t we share the bed?”

Black spots dance in Cas’ vision. What the hell is this ... _Dean_ thinking?

Dean’s smile falters. Finally. He must have realized how ridiculous this is. There had to be another solution.

“Look, man, I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman. There’s no need to panic like that. I’ll be out this evening and will get out of your hair first thing in the moment.” His face turns soft with empathy, and Cas wants to scream ( _I’m not panicking!),_ but then he takes a deep breath and finds his hands trembling just slightly, and yeah, maybe he is.

It’s only one night and they’re both adults, he tells himself. Slowly, he nods.

“Great,” Dean says, grinning, before he turns to the clerk to sort out the details. Cas is numb with fatigue when he follows Dean through the lobby, into the elevator, down the hallway in silence.

///

Cas walks into the room behind Dean, lets his bag fall onto the small couch, and rakes a hand through his hair.

Dean chuckles.

“What’s so funny?” Cas grumbles.

“Just, you know. It’s June, and we’re at the Sunset Plaza, and we might be the only two guys who aren’t happy to share a room.”

“What are you talking about?” He watches as Dean goes over to the wide window and points down. Cas walks over reluctantly and follows the direction of Dean’s index finger. The pool area is populated by barely clad men and women, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary. He squints against the sunlight and tries to understand what Dean is talking about. Oh.

“The Sunset Plaza in June is the place to be for LGBT singles, Cas. Wait, you didn’t know?”

Cas worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He didn’t know. “My brother booked for me. He must have thought it’s hilarious.”

“Hmmm,” Dean shrugs. “Or maybe he just thought you need to get laid.” His cocky smile is back. “I’ve only known you a couple of minutes, but even I see that you could use some … relaxation.” He raises an eyebrow at the last word and makes if sound like something dirty. Cas ignores the clench in his gut at hearing Dean’s voice get husky like that.

Cas keeps watching the couples by the pool. Dean is not exactly wrong. He can’t even remember the last time he had sex. Or a date. He loves his work, and tends to get lost in it.

Dean rips him from his musings.

“So, which side of the bed do you want?”

///

He decides to spend the evening reading. He went down for a quick dinner, and now he’s lounging on the wide bed, wearing his favorite sweatpants and an old tank top, diving into a novel he wanted to read for years. The book had been lying on his bedside table long enough to gather dust, and whenever he cleaned his flat, he had always wiped it with a deep sense of longing.

Dean kept his promise. He is down by the bar to meet up with his friend Charlie, and Cas wonders if he will spend the night alone after all and Dean will find shelter in this Charlie’s room. He doesn’t like the fierce stab of jealousy that thought causes. Dean is not his type, he’s loud and sassy and thinks his charms will get him whatever he wants. Cas’ thoughts shouldn’t keep drifting back to the sight of Dean’s broad back or the way the corners of his eyes crinkle when he laughs.

The door opens around eleven pm and a slightly drunk Dean stumbles in.

Cas concentrates resolutely on his book, but the words start to blur before his eyes. He hears Dean fighting with his clothes. Is he going to undress right here? Where Cas can see him? He looks up to say something about it, but just like in the lobby, not a single word comes out.

Dean has already lost his shirt and busies himself with the buttons of his jeans. He curses under his breath, but then he finally manages to open it. The soft blue fabric reveals something … purple? Cas’ breath catches in his throat. Dean shimmies out of his jeans, and yes, okay, he’s wearing lace panties. He’s really wearing dark purple lace panties, and Cas is too young to die.

Cas clears his throat and Dean looks up, one leg lifted to tug off his sock.

“You remember I’m in the room, right?” Cas manages to croak, and he’s proud of himself that he makes it sound reproachful instead of needy.

Dean grins and straightens. “You like what you see?”, he slurs, but he doesn’t sound too inebriated.

“Are you an exhibitionist?” Cas asks back.

“I don’t mind being looked at,” Dean answers and wriggles his hips a bit. “And it’s not like I have to be afraid you’ll jump me. It’s like … changing in front of a doctor.”

Cas is weirdly offended by that. He’s of half a mind to correct Dean, but what would he say? You’re wrong, I would very much like to have sex with you? With a start he realizes he would. And he wonders if it had been Dean’s plan to get a reaction out of him. Pleasant warmth spreads through his stomach as he watches Dean get ready for the night. He is gorgeous, all lean muscle and natural grace, freckled skin and those panties, good lord, Cas didn’t know he had a thing for that, but it seems like he does, he really does.

Dean vanishes in the bathroom and Cas listens to him shower. Dean hums a Zeppelin song while he brushes his teeth. Then he comes back out, this time wearing shorts and a t-shirt. He slips under the covers on his side of the bed, turns his back to Cas and mumbles good night.

Cas tries to go on reading, but his mind is whirling. He listens to Dean’s breathing evening out, and finally puts his book to the side. He should sleep, too.

///

Cas is still awake three hours later, so feels Dean stirring in his sleep. When he hears the first moan, Cas is sure Dean’s having the nice kind of dream, and tries to block it out and not wonder what Dean might be dreaming about.

After a few minutes, it’s clear Dean’s having a nightmare. He’s crying out softly and tossing around. Cas tries calling his name, but Dean doesn’t wake up, so Cas reaches over an touches Dean’s arm, carefully at first, then shoves him a little.

Dean wakes up with a start, and Cas can feels his body shaking under his hand. He tugs it back immediately. “You were having a nightmare,” he says, and keeps his voice low and quiet to not startle Dean further.

Dean is heaving deep trembling breaths that sound like sobs now and then. “Thank you for waking me,” he murmurs. He sounds small and fragile, and it breaks Cas' heart to hear someone as full of life as Dean this vulnerable. Without thinking, he reaches out again to pat Dean’s shoulder. Dean sighs with relief and turns to him, still keeping space between their bodies.

The room is dark, and Cas can barely make out Dean’s form, but when he lifts his arm, Dean seems to understand just fine. He shuffles closer to Cas, curls up against his side and lays his head down on Cas’ chest. They fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. Cas puts his arm around Dean’s shoulder and starts painting small circles on his bicep without thinking too much of it. Dean needs comfort, and it’s odd how much Cas like to give it. It’s strange how natural it feels to have Dean in his arms. Dean breathes shallowly against his chest, and his hand is warm on Cas’ stomach. It’s been a long time since he slept next to someone, and Cas wonders if he will even be able to fall asleep.

“Thank you,” Dean murmurs. Cas leans his head to the side and breathes in the scent of Dean, fresh sweat and the smallest hint of whiskey, feels Dean’s hair tickle his cheek, and a minute later, sleep drags him under.

///

When he wakes up, he needs a while to orientate himself. He’s slept better than he had in months and his whole body is humming with contentment. Dean is still curled around his side, his thigh thrown over Cas’ legs and a soft happy smile plays around his beautiful lips. The sunlight pours over his skin and gives it a golden shimmer. Cas closes his eyes again. It’s still early. He dozes off.

///

The next time he comes to, Dean thigh has wandered again. And this time, well, this time it’s getting Cas in trouble. Waking up hard is nothing noteworthy in itself, and he can ignore it most days when he doesn’t have time to take care of it. This, though. The pressure and warmth of Dean’s thigh is sweet torture. He wonders what it would feel like if he rocked his hips just a little to get more friction.

Dean stirs at his side, and now Cas feels that he’s not alone in this uncomfortable situation. Dean is pressed to his hip, and he’s hard just like Cas. Dean smacks his lips and then seems to realize what’s happening. He rolls away and mumbles, “Oh sorry, I’m gonna…”. He points to the bathroom and shuffles out of bed and over to the door.

Cas stares at the ceiling, and chastises himself for the surge of disappointment at Dean’s reaction. They spent the night together out of necessity, and Dean will be glad to get his own room later, maybe share his new bed with someone else. He will forget the night with the weird guy. To him, sleeping in Cas’ arms will not be the most intimate and wonderful experience he’s had in a long time. He, unlike Cas, will not try to hold on to the feeling of their bodies close together, the flash of desire at feeling the other one’s erection. Cas is pathetic, and maybe he should just leave now …

He knew the bathroom door was thin. He heard Dean in the shower yesterday, so he really shouldn’t be surprised. But when he hears the first low moan wafting over, it’s still a shock. Against his will he calms is breathing and tries to hear more. There’s a faint wet rhythmic sound between the low moans. Cas feels a blush creep up his neck, he should be embarrassed of himself, but his body doesn’t mind. His cock hardens again while he listens to Dean jerking off in the other room, and his brain has no problem at all providing him with visuals.

It only takes a few minutes. By the time Dean’s hand picks up speed and loses its rhythm, Cas is panting and curling his hands in the sheets to stop himself from touching his own cock. He’s straining against his boxer briefs and a there’s a wet stain on the fabric. He hasn’t been this turned on in a long time. As is to taunt Cas, Dean gets even louder towards the end, his soft moans changing with rough pants and high whines, and Cas is sure he won’t ever get those sounds out of his mind. “Oh, fuck,” Dean groans in the bathroom, and Cas envisions him spilling all over his fist, body curling forward.

Next is the toothbrush again, and Cas is grateful for the chance to at least get his breathing under control, and then Dean comes back into the room. Cas hurries to get up, lower body turned away from Dean, as he walks over to the bathroom and locks the door behind him without a word.

He’s so hard he’s aching with it. The first touch of his hand against his cock feels like heaven, and he swallows the sigh that bubbles up in his throat. With swift movements, he shoves down his underwear and takes himself in hand. He tries to be quiet about it, just curls his hand tight around his cock and pumps fast, squeezing at the tip and rubbing the drops of precome down his length to ease the glide. The scent of Dean’s orgasm still lingers in the air, and it’s spurring Cas on even more.

Pure heat is settling in his gut, and he opens his stance and puts a hand on the tiles to keep himself upright. Did Dean stand in the same spot? Did he … did he know that Cas would listen? The thought sends sparks of lightning down his spine, and Cas allows the next sound that builds in his chest to tumble out, a choked-off groan. It’s exciting to imagine Dean on the bed, eyes closed as he listens to Cas masturbating right next door. It’s something else Cas never thought he would be into, but god, he is, and his cock is weeping out another spurt of precome when he thinks about Dean, lazily touching his spent dick and enjoying the sounds of Cas coming undone.

His orgasm rolls over him out of nowhere, and his hoarse shout sounds shocked even to his own ears. His dick is jerking in his fist, and thick ropes of white splash against the tiles, and his knees are weak with the sheer force of it. He watches his come running down the wall, mesmerized and still a little stunned.

Cas smiles. This whole situation is ridiculous, but he has to admit, he hasn’t felt this good in a long time. In a few minutes, he will clean this mess and leave the bathroom and Dean will be there.

Maybe Dean will shoot him one of those cocky looks and he will ask “Are you always this loud?” and Cas will say, maybe, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” and Dean, Dean might answer, “Yes, I’d like to find out.”

Cas has a feeling that anything can happen, and for once in his life, it doesn’t scare him at all.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, obviously I didn't plan for this to happen, but I had this idea stuck in my head and it seems like I can't handle open ends even if I wrote them myself so ... have another chapter. I don't have a clear plan, but there might be about three more chapters coming.

Cas takes his time in the bathroom. When the first high of the frankly mind-blowing orgasm ebbs off, anxiety takes its place. He opens the door with his heart beating in his throat – not sure if he fears Dean being there or him being gone.

The bedroom is empty.

It’s better this way, Cas tells himself, but he doesn’t quite believe it.

When he goes over to the bed, he finds a note. The handwriting is neat and the letters well-rounded. Cas takes a second to admire it before he forces himself to read and learn what Dean has to say about this morning.

_Hey Cas, I enjoyed that a lot. Wasn’t sure if you were ready to see me again just yet. I’m down at the cafeteria for breakfast. Join me if you want? If not – thanks for last night. Dean_

Cas reads the note five times. And then once more. So Dean did listen, otherwise his words would make no sense. And he enjoyed it. And he wants to see Cas again.

He sits down on the bed, knees weak all of a sudden. He is so completely out of his depth here, he feels like he’s drowning. What is he supposed to do? Go down there and have breakfast with Dean as if nothing happened? He can’t do that. He can’t. Can he?

His brother’s voice pops into his head out of nowhere. _Cassie, you gotta have some fun now and then, live a little. It’s good for the soul to give up control now and then._

Cas looks around the room and takes in the rumpled sheets. The sight of the bed, clearly used by two people, and the memory of Dean, asleep in his arms, makes his heart ache with longing. It felt good to share a bed and feel a warm body next to his. It felt so good to take care of Dean when he had a nightmare. And it felt so, so good to feel wanted.

The decision is made. He has to go down anyway to sort out the rooms with the front desk. He might as well have breakfast. And if Dean is still there, well …

It takes him another ten minutes to decide what to wear – he settles for soft grey slacks and a dark blue polo shirt that, according to his brother, _brings out his ridiculous eyes_ – and restore the resemblance of order in his unruly hair.

The cafeteria is a wide and open space with modern furniture in soft earthy tones, and it’s packed. When he weaves his way through the tables, he realizes he has to take Dean up on his offer – he wouldn’t find a seat otherwise. He looks over the heads of the other guests until his gaze catches on a mop of red hair. The head with said hair snaps around when he approaches and reveals the face of a young woman with a bright and cheery smile. Next to her sits Dean, a slight blush on his cheeks and a careful smile around his lips, gorgeous just like Cas remembers.

Dean scoots over on the bench he’s sitting on and waves Cas closer. “Sit down. I wasn’t sure you’d c- you’d show up.”

The red-haired woman chokes on a laugh and hides her grin behind a hand. Cas sits down and sets down his plate – fruit and a bowl of cereals – before he glares at Dean. Dean’s blush deepens. “This – this is Charlie. Charlie, this is Cas.”

Cas turns to offer his hand for a firm handshake. Charlie is still smiling, but it’s warmer now as she glances over at Dean knowingly.

“Nice to meet you. I have to apologize for him, Cas. He could never keep a secret, but I assure you, even I couldn’t get any details out of him, so it’s gotta be something special he sees in you.”

Dean mumbles something accusatory under his breath, and his obvious embarrassment somehow loosens something in Cas. He sits back and chuckles. “It was a very special night,” he agrees, making it clear he won’t say more. “Wait, you are Charlie?” he asks, because he just realized that – this is Charlie.

She smiles. “I am. And as much as I’d love to needle you about that special night, I gotta meet up with my girl.” She stands and waves a brunette woman at the other end of the room. “See you later, maybe?”

Cas nods, because it apparently only takes a few minutes to learn that one doesn’t say no to Charlie.

“Take care, kiddo,” Dean says, Charlie sticks out her tongue at him before she vanishes.

Without her cheerful presence, an awkward silence falls over the table. Cas eats a few bites of his fruit and Dean finishes his sandwich. Cas looks around to watch the other guests. After a few minutes he chuckles under his breath.

“What?” Dean asks.

“Nothing. I just thought that we both aren’t very good at this.” He indicates the rest of the room, full of couples whispering and laughing, and while the PDA is kept to a minimum, the nature of the acquaintances is blatantly clear.

“What’s wrong about being comfortable enough with each other that talking’s not necessary?” Dean raises an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, is that what this is? Could have fooled me,” Cas answers, still smiling and more than a little surprised by his own forwardness.

Dean barks a laugh, and Cas takes the chance to admire the curve of his neck. He’s suddenly very aware of how close they sit, Dean’s thigh is pressed against his own and Cas still remembers the weight of it, the warmth of it just hours ago.

Dean doesn’t seem to have a problem with the proximity. He leans closer and throws his arm around Cas’ shoulders in a casual gesture without really touching him, just restsing his arm on the back of the bench. Cas can feel the heat of Dean’s skin even with that inch of space between them. He hasn’t yearned for a touch like this in a long time. Dean’s breath meets his cheek when he speaks again and Cas tries not to shiver.

“As soon as I had my coffee, I promise I will flirt with you, full-on Winchester-charm. I will tell you how good that shirt looks on you, and how I appreciate the tight fit of those pants, though I bet swim-shorts would look even better.”

Cas turns his head, which brings his face dangerously close to Dean’s. “Would you now?”

Dean licks his lips and Cas can practically feel his gaze on his own mouth. “Hmmm, yeah. I might even tell you that I’m a little bit disappointed that you straightened your hair. You looked gorgeous this morning, all tousled and turned on.”

Dean’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows with a dry click. Cas is not the only one affected by this conversation, it seems. Dean turns and grabs his coffee.

“But as I said, coffee first. You’ll have to wait.”

Cas picks up his spoon and adds some milk to his cereal. “Alright,” he mumbles, and starts to eat, pointedly ignoring the armada of butterflies somersaulting in his stomach.

///

By the time Dean had his second cup of coffee, conversation runs more smoothly. Cas finds his footing talking to Dean, who is – innuendo, snark and teasing aside – a fascinating person. He’s not a firefighter, as Cas had imagined, but a mechanic. Cas never much cared for cars, but Dean has a way to talk about his job, his co-workers and customers that has Cas hanging on every word. (Part of it might be Dean’s mouth though, and the way his full lips stretch and move around the vowels…).

Cas tries to reciprocate but his work as a lawyer gives him less options to talk about clients. He takes his confidentiality very serious. That leaves him with stories about his brother, since his own private life could be labeled as “boring to non-existent”. When Dean laughs his booming full-body laugh as Cas recollects the evening where he found his brother in his flat, naked, covered in chocolate, handfeeding a pair of twins with strawberries, Cas wonders for a moment how Dean could ever find him interesting. He is sure that Dean could tell him stories about escapades like that, ones he himself participated in, while Cas sat in his office and went over the same case for the hundredth time to find a weak spot.

Everything about Dean is sensual, from the way he curls his hands around his coffee mug to the subtle glances he shoots Cas now and then, to his laugh and the way his muscles move under the thin t-shirt he’s wearing. Cas isn’t used to the constant urge to make Dean smile or touch him, or be touched by him. It’s disconcerting, and it frightens Cas a little, but he decides to be brave and see where this leads, decides he’s due for a bit of happiness, and sitting here, warmed by Dean’s radiant smiles, makes him more happy than he’s been for a long time.

When it’s time to part, they agree on meeting at the pool later. Cas goes over to the front desk to sort out the new room arrangements. He’s given a new room and has to vacate the one he shared with Dean till noon. He goes back up to his floor, lost in memories of their unexpected meeting, and he wonders if Dean is as shaken by it as he is. Probably not, he reasons, Dean will meet interesting people every day.

He gets back to the room and packs his suitcase, pausing now and then to look at the bed with its still rumpled sheets. On an impulse, he lays down on Dean’s side and tries to make out his scent on the pillow. It’s still there, faint, but unmistakable. He inhales deeply, shocked to find his body responding to the fragrance. He doesn’t do anything about it, just lets the soft hum of arousal flood through him.

When he opens his eyes again, embarrassed by his own actions, his gaze lands on the trash bin next to the bed. The bottom is crowded by at least a dozen crumpled sheets of paper. Curiosity getting the better of him, Cas digs around and takes a few out, flattens them on the bed.

_~~Cas, I really~~ _

The second one reads

_~~Heya Cas, what a night, huh?~~ _

He upends the bin over the bed and reads through each and every one. Dean must have sat here this morning, trying to find the right words, and he started again and again. With each letter, something inside Cas’ chest unfolds and spreads. There’s nothing casual about the way Dean wanted to make sure to get this simple note right. When he read them all, Cas sits on the bed, crumpled sheets of paper in his trembling hands, throat tight with emotion.

Cas prides himself for his ability to be prepared for every possible outcome for every possible situation. This ability, it seems, has got a blind spot, and it has the form of a beautiful, intriguing man named Dean – Dean who will be waiting by the pool in thirty minutes, wearing nothing but a pair of shorts and the sun on his skin.

 _Plans are overrated_ , Gabe tells him in his mind, _the best things in life are the ones that hit you out of nowhere_.

Cas hates to admit it, but his brother might have a point.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I changed the title, hope it's not too confusing. I'm planning to get another chapter done this weekend, but I can't promise anything. Unbeta'd.

 

The light sparkles on the water’s surface like diamonds. The pool area is not crowded yet – it’s not even midday –, so Cas finds Dean with a quick glance, lounging on the other side of the long rectangle, propped up on the edge like an offering to long forgotten gods.

Dean’s eyes are on him, he can feel it more than he sees it, and suddenly, Cas gets self-conscious about his old swim trunks that look ridiculously out of date against the colorful, tiny briefs the other men are wearing. He steps into the water slowly, eager to flee the calculating, judging eyes around him, but anxious to slip on the steps at the same time.

He glides into the welcome coolness and swims over to Dean in four long strokes. It’s good to move. The familiar exercise dampens some of his nervous thoughts, and his body relaxes into the motion. Too soon, or not soon enough, Dean is next to him and Cas catches the edge of the pool as he realizes this is the deep end. He treads water while he blinks over at Dean.

“There you are, handsome, I’ve been worried you wouldn’t show up,” Dean drawls.

“It wasn’t even an hour since we’ve seen each other. “ Dean’s eyebrow lifts at Cas’ no-nonsense tone of voice, the one he uses in court and, with much less success, with his brother. Dean is just as immune to it as Gabe, it seems.

“Well, it felt longer,” Dean pouts around a cheeky smile, which should be impossible, but Cas learns to accommodate the expressiveness and the contradictions that make up Dean – slowly. “Where’s your new room?”

“215,” Cas answers and Dean’s smile widens, lips thinning out and eyes crinkling up. It’s blinding.

“That’s on my floor. I’m 209.” And he winks. Cas doesn’t think anyone winked at him ever in his life. It’s just not who he is, and he’d find it weird if it wasn’t so adorable. He’s still not sure why Dean flirts with him, of all people, spends time with him, when he could have anybody. He’s about to ask, but Dean pushes away from the edge and turns to him, proclaiming “I’m gonna swim a few round, it’s getting cold. You may ogle me.”

And with that, he’s diving under the surface and pushing his body forward in one powerful motion. Cas is allowed, even encouraged to watch him, so watch him he does. Dean’s broad shoulders push through the surface and roll into another stroke both graceful and speaking of physical power. Strong and well-proportioned muscles roll with the motions, and Cas couldn’t tear his eyes away if he wanted. His neck is warm from the sun, his cheeks are hot as if he’s catching a fever. He is both detached and completely aware of the situation, acutely attuned to each movement of Dean’s body while the rest of his surroundings seem muted and unreal.

When Dean gets back to him, he splashes up from the water like a shining statue. Cas’ mouth is too dry to speak, and he doesn’t get the chance to, because an evil grin spreads over Dean’s features just before reaches out and dunks Cas under water. Cas grabs at Dean’s chest in reflex, stunned by the contrast between cold water and warm skin, as he struggles to come up again. Water runs into his eyes, blinds him when he breaks the surface again, but his hands are still curled into Dean’s skin. He should retaliate, but his plan changes as soon as he finds Dean’s smile through his blurred vision.

So instead of pushing Dean, he pulls until their chests touch. His right hand finds its way to Dean’s shoulder, his neck, into the wet strands of his hair. Dean is still smiling when Cas crashes their mouths together. And then Dean’s hands are on his back, moving, searching, and Dean’s lips press against his own eagerly, wet and soft and still a little cold from the water. Cas has to grab the edge of the pool to steady them and turns until Dean is between him and the wall.

They need a moment to find the right angle for their mouths, noses brushing and chins bumping, until Dean grabs his head with an impatient sound and tilts it to the left and then… it’s perfect.

Dean’s lips part in welcome and his tongue darts out to meet Cas’ in a sinful swirl that makes Cas’ stomach drop. His skin burns at every point of contact, transforming the slightest motion into a sensual touch. Holding Dean in his arms feels both foreign and like the most natural thing he ever did, exploring him like something he was meant to do. Dean sighs whenever he finds a sensitive spot with his tongue and his teeth, and every single sound spurs him on to find more, to learn what makes Dean squirm and tense. They kiss and kiss and kiss, until Cas’ head swims and his heart beats like a drum against his ribs, and still, they keep kissing.

They steal each other’s breath and swallow all the small sounds of pleasure and delight.

He should care about the image they make in broad daylight in the middle of the pool, and he should care about the fact that this feels so much more profound than a playful hook-up, but all he cares about is the way Dean’s fingers curl around his shoulder blades and how he tastes like coffee, chlorine and sunlight.

Dean wriggles in his arms, and their lower bodies brush. It’s the gasp at feeling each other hard and straining that breaks the kiss apart.

“Holy shit, Cas,” Dean breathes. His eyes are blown and a little unfocused.

“I’m sorry, I …” Cas starts, but Dean stops him with a shake of his head.

“Don’t ever apologize for something as awesome as this,” Dean grins. “I thought I would have to tease you the whole day before I got you to react, wouldn’t have pegged you this easy.” He winks again, and Cas thinks he could get used to this.

“After this morning you thought I could withstand your charm for a whole day? I’m flattered by your confidence,” Cas shoots back and feels the corners of his mouth curl in to an answering grin. His lips still tingle from Dean’s stubble. They must look as puffed and well-used as Dean’s.

Dean’s fingertips glide down his side in a torturously slow pace, over his ribs, into the dip of his stomach, over the bump of his hipbone, leaving Cas shivering. Dean’s gaze falls into the space between them and Cas follows it. The water is clear enough to make out the contours of their tented shorts.

When Dean looks up again, he licks his bottom lip like he just saw the most delicious meal in the world. “I will go up to my room now and take a shower,” he mumbles, almost casually, but the hoarseness of his voice betrays the attempt at nonchalance. His hand is still on Cas’ hip, burning and possessive.

“That’s possibly a good idea,” Cas answers, mesmerizes by the movement of Dean’s lips.

“You could come over,“ Dean muses, “maybe in half an hour or so?”

Cas nods in a short jerking motion, before the content of the question even registers. “I could do that.” His throat is tight and dry. He’s still half-hard and willfully ignoring the way his shorts flow around his groin, how the fabric shifts against him in the tiniest of caresses, how much he wants to pull Dean close again.

Dean chuckles at his concentrated expression and turns with a smile to swim back to the stairs. Cas watches as he grabs a towel and winds it around his middle in one swift motion that hides his crotch from curious eyes. And then he’s gone, and Cas is alone with his turbulent thoughts and his fading arousal and the gnawing realization that he just accepted Dean’s offer to have sex without thinking twice.

The small bubble of panic at his own recklessness, the unprecedented _spontaneity_ of it all, works wonders to get his erection under control, while the cold water does the rest.

When his pulse slows down and his head clears, he searches himself for doubts, sure he will come across a thousand arguments to not go up to Dean’s floor, not to knock on Dean’s door. What he finds, though, is excitement, and curiosity, and want. He wants to know what this day, the next night will bring.

As a matter of fact, he can’t wait to find out.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

It feels weird to go back up to his room and get dressed again only to get undressed later, but Cas does it anyway. He settles for grey slacks and a dark blue short-sleeved button down. His stomach flutters with nerves the whole way to Dean’s room and he pauses for long minutes in front of the door.

When he finally finds the courage to knock, the door opens a second later, as if Dean’s been standing on the other side the whole time. His breath stumbles in Cas’ throat. Dean’s wearing only a soft grey bathrobe that’s wide open over his chest. That glimpse of skin is somehow more erotic than seeing Dean in his swim shorts an hour ago. His skin is flushed from a recent shower, and his freckles stand out against the blush. Cas realizes he’s staring. With a jerk, he looks up at Dean’s face where he’s met with an amused smile.

“Hi,” Dean says and opens the door wider to let Cas step in, the closes it behind him.

“Hi.” Cas feels ridiculously overdressed. He tugs at the hem of his shirt. “I didn’t know what to wear,” he mumbles. Dean lays a hand on his chest. His palm is very warm.

“I like it.” They stand like that for a long moment, just looking at each other.

“I don’t usually do this,” Cas hears himself say, though that should be obvious by now. He’s completely out of his depth.

“This is a bit weird for me, too. I mean, I have hook-ups now and then, but usually it’s dark by then, and I’m a little tipsy and it’s all frantic and quick,” Dean rambles. “You … this is not what I’m used to.”

“I’m sorry,” Cas murmurs, embarrassed by his own lack of experience.

“Don’t be,” Dean smiles. “I like it.”

And with that, Cas’ nervousness gives way to another kind of feeling in his gut. Dean looks magnificent. And Cas really wants to know what he’s wearing under that robe. He reaches his hand out to let his finger trail over the fabric, down along Dean’s side. “May I?” he asks softly and hooks the tip of his index finger in the belt of the bathrobe, a little stunned by his own boldness.

Dean holds out his hands to the side and cocks his head in a go-ahead-motion. The soft fabric falls open with the first tug of Cas’ finger, revealing the wide expanse of Dean’s chest and the fact that, yes, he’s wearing panties again. Light blue. Lace trim. A small bow that sits snug over the outline of a half-hard erection. Cas’ mouth waters at the sight.

“You seemed to like them yesterday,” Dean says, a note of uncertainty in his voice.

Cas can only nod and Dean chuckles, supposedly at his dumb-struck expression. It makes Cas look up. The blush on Dean’s skin deepens while he watches and he reaches out again to lay his hand softly over Dean’s heart, just like Dean did a moment before. He can feel Dean’s heart beat steady and fast beneath his palm. He moves his palm up slowly under the trimmed edge of the bathrobe and pushes it over Dean’s shoulder until it falls onto the ground. The room is suddenly very quiet.

“Can I kiss you?” Dean asks.

Cas nods again, his head still moving when Dean dives in and presses his lips against Cas’. It’s a little clumsy and their mouths don’t quite fit, and Cas can feel Dean smiling, before he corrects the angle and brushes his lips over Cas’, this time firm and perfect. His palm is still on Dean’s shoulder where he can the vibration of Dean humming appreciatively into the kiss.

Dean’s arms come up around Cas’ neck to pull him closer. Heat rushes along Cas’ spine and pools deep inside him, and that’s before Dean opens his plush lips and darts out his tongue to get a taste. They meet hesitantly, just a slow tangle, but it sets Cas’ nerves on fire like few kisses ever did. There’s something about the way Dean explores him, sighs against his lips and presses his whole body against him, that makes him forget that they’re technically still strangers, that Cas is an uptight laywer and Dean a sexy mechanic, that they have next to nothing in common – right here, right now, they’re just Cas and Dean, who fit against each other like two pieces of a puzzle.

Cas doesn’t notice he moved until Dean’s legs meet the bed and he tumbles backwards onto the mattress with a surprised chuckle. All his limbs are splayed from the fall. Cas follows the curve of his legs up to the cut of his hips and the visible outline of his cock, and wonders if the panties will get too tight at one point, – he makes a mental note to find out. Dean’s waist broadens into his strong chest and stronger shoulders, thick muscled arms. Cas wants to map out all of it with his hands and his mouth.

He kneels down on the bed and moves over Dean’s body, not touching yet, until he’s bracketing Dean’s hips with his thighs and holds up his upper body with his hands next to Dean’s head. Dean leans up to capture Cas’ lips again, and it’s more hungry this time, darker and sensual, and Cas gasps when Dean’s teeth sink into his lower lip and bite him, just this side of painful. Dean tugs on his shirt, and he falls down onto Dean’s waiting body, close from head to thighs, the contact shocking a moan out of him.

Dean bucks up and wriggles his hips until their clothed erections brush, and Cas rocks his hips on instinct, seeking more of that heavenly friction. The kiss gets messy after that, interrupted by breathless pants and teasing bites. Dean’s moans take on a needy tone and the sound goes right to Cas’ dick. He wants to give Dean anything he needs, the urge so powerful it punches a possessive grown out of him. Cas snakes a hand between their bodies to cup Dean through the soft silk, feel the hot length of him jerking against his palm.

“Yeah, fuck, Cas,” Dean sighs, and Cas rubs him harder, thumbs under the head in tiny circles just to hear Dean gasp his name again. Dean’s jaw goes slack, his mouth open and wet where Cas fucks his tongue deep and strokes against the roof of his mouth, the line of his teeth.

Dean’s hips move in wanton waves under his palm, the motion so carnal that Cas can’t help but imagine what Dean would look like beneath him, taking him into his body. He groans into Dean’s open mouth and rubs his cock against Dean’s thigh in aborted thrusts, mimicking the act he’s picturing in his mind.

The panties are wet from Dean’s desire and Cas can smell him, can smell them both in the warm air of the room, fresh sweat and spicy musk. He needs to taste more, wants to lick the sweat from Dean’s skin, so he moves down, bites the sharp curve of his jaw, the soft skin of his neck, dips his tongue into the hollow of his collarbone. Dean is urging him on with broken gasps that turn into a soft cry when Cas find his right nipple and closes his lips around it, sucks it into his mouth and rolls his tongue around it. Dean’s hand comes up to curve around his neck, tender almost, holds him while Cas nips and licks the sensitive nub into hardness.

The motions of Dean’s hips lose their rhythm. His cock is peeking out from the waistband of the panties, just like Cas had hoped, and when Cas finds the head with his thumb, they both groan from the first real contact, skin on skin. Cas slips his hand into the panties, eager now to feel more of Dean, to feel his weight in his grip. The silk was soft, but the thin skin covering Dean’s hardness is even smoother, delicate when he closes his fist around him and starts stroking.

The grip in Cas’ hair tightens, sending sparks of pleasure-pain down his spine. With a last soft kiss to Dean’s swollen nipple he leans back, because he wants, he needs to watch as Dean comes closer to the edge. Dean’s head is thrown back, the long line of his neck tense and straining, his lips dark red and slick from kissing, his chest heaving with his fast breathing. Cas has never seen anything more beautiful. He slows his hand a little, tightens his strokes, base to tip, to draw the moment out. Dean’s whole lower body pushes up into his hand.

Dean’s eyes fly open, pupils blown wide, and meet his with laser-sharp focus, and he doesn’t make a single sound when he spills hot over Cas’ hand, his own stomach. They keep looking into each other’s eyes while Cas strokes him through it, until Dean’s gets too sensitive and softens in Cas’ hand. It’s more intimate than everything they did before, and the wonder in Dean’s gaze tells him he’s not the only one who feels that way.

“Holy hell, Cas,” Dean rasps, and leans up to capture his lips again in a deep and lazy kiss. Cas is still crouched on all fours over him, and his cock, neglected for the last minutes, suddenly aches with the need to come. Dean never leaves his mouth while he fumbles with the buttons of Cas’ pants and pushes them down unceremoniously with his boxers, rucks up his shirt under his armpits, too eager to undress him properly. Cas gasps when Dean takes him in hand and feels out the contours with a too light touch.

He feels like he could burst any moment, more turned on than he’s been in a long time, but he’s unable to tell Dean, or do something about it other than push into Dean’s touch. Dean seems to sense his need, and tightens his hand with a low chuckle against his lips. He turns his head slightly to mouth along Cas’ jaw and along the sensitive spot behind his ear.

“Next time,” he whispers like he’s sharing secret, “next time I’ll let you fuck my mouth.” He underlines the promise with a wicked twist of his hand that makes Cas see stars. “Can’t wait to get a taste of you.”

Cas groans at that and bucks into the tunnel of Dean’s hand. God yes, he wants that, with a desperation that shocks himself. His thighs are trembling with the need to come and he looks down the length of their bodies, his own cock red and leaking, Dean covered in his own come, soft dick half tugged in his stained panties. Cas watches as Dean picks up speed, jerks him in that perfect pace.

“Come on, Cas,” Dean pants in a rough voice, as if he’s the one being taken to the brink expertly and merciless, not Cas, “come for me.”

And Cas obeys, cries out with the force of it, as he tumbles over the edge, watches rapt as he’s coming all over Dean’s spoilt underwear, messing him up even more. Dean mumbles encouragements, while wave after wave trembles through Cas. Dean wrings the last ounce of pleasure from him with sure hands, until Cas’ elbows give out and he lands half on Dean, half next to him. Dean laughs, and in his post-orgasmic haze, Cas thinks it’s the most beautiful sound on earth.

“Tell me again when I laugh too loud at my own jokes on our next date,” Dean chuckles, and Cas realizes with a start that he said it out loud.

He presses a soft kiss on Dean’s freckled shoulder and concentrates on the most important part of Dean’s sentence.

“Our next date?” he murmurs.

“Yeah. How about tonight?” Dean asks and puts a finger under his chin to lift his face. His eyes are warm and sated, and they glow with something deeper than physical satisfaction.

Cas feels like he’s falling. He’s falling far too fast for this wonderful, funny, hot man he just met, and there’s no safety net to catch him, only Dean and his warm green eyes and his strong hand stroking up and down his back. There’s a good chance his heart will be crushed when he reaches the ground. He swallows down his fear. And jumps.

“I’d love that.”

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

Dean finds a nice restaurant in walking distance from the hotel and sends Cas the address. There’s a smiling emoji next to it, so Cas sends the same back.

He spends the afternoon alone in his room and contemplates the events of the last 24 hours. Dean breezed into his life like a whirlwind, tumbling carefully constructed fences and facades upside down. In the silence of his room, Cas takes stock of the new landscape Dean left behind, and to his surprise, he finds he likes it. He likes how Dean makes him feel and how Dean coaxes him out of his comfort zone, how Dean seems to acknowledge Cas’ boundaries, but tease him to step outside of them.

Cas never wanted much from life – a job that fulfills him, his own space, enough free time to read, maybe house with a garden someday. He likes to be on his own and can spend hours looking at a wall and daydream. The kind of happiness he saw in others always seemed like a distant dream. A dream he stopped himself from dreaming years ago.

Now his heart beats faster every time he thinks back to the moments he shared with Dean, not just the sex (though that was amazing), but the little things. The way Dean would smile at his best friend when she wasn’t looking. The way Dean tipped the waitress generously and waved her away with a blush when she thanked him. The way Dean talked about his little brother, pride evident even in his snide remarks about Sam’s haircut and his too big heart. Cas has a feeling he knows where Dean’s brother learned that empathy.

They didn’t talk about a dress code, but Cas digs into his suitcase to find his suit at the bottom of it. It’s wrinkled and a bit too large since he lost some weight over the last stressful moths, but he wants to dress in something special for his first real date with Dean.

It’s strange to leave the Sunset Plaza, which feels like an alternative reality to Cas by now, a place where he doesn’t have to be the person he was his entire life. When he arrives at the restaurant, Dean is already waiting next to the entrance. Cas almost doesn’t recognize him in the well-fitted grey linen suit. It’s unfair that Dean can look even more gorgeous, he thinks. A man that looks breathtaking in a bathrobe shouldn’t be allowed to wear a suit like that.

Dean hasn’t seen him yet and Cas slows his steps so he has time to stare a little more. The crisp white shirt glows against the sun-kissed skin on Dean’s neck. Dean fiddles with his hands and tugs his cuffs out of his jacket in a nervous gesture that makes his shoulders strain against the material of the suit. Cas mouth waters at the sight. As much as Cas likes this outfit, he can’t wait to peel if off Dean later this evening.

Dean looks up as if he feels Cas’ gaze on him.

“Cas,” he smiles, and lets his eyes roam over him. Cas straightens his jacket in a futile attempt to make it sit properly on his frame. “You look sharp,” Dean adds, and he sounds like he means it.

Cas waves the compliment away. “You, too,” he croaks, all the other words like _beautiful_ and _handsome_ and _gorgeous_ sticking in his throat. Dean might tease him out of his shell, but suave is a something Cas will never be.

He’s not sure what kind of greeting the situation warrants. Should he hug Dean? Kiss him? A handshake surly would be awkward, since those hands have already been in their respective underwear only hours ago. Dean rescues him and leans in for a soft peck on Cas’ cheek. Cas’ skin burns where Dean’s lips touch him and Cas reaches up with his hand to touch the spot.

Dean’s grin widens at what must be a slightly stunned expression, but doesn’t comment.

“Should we go in?” Dean holds out his arm in a way Cas once saw in an old movie, like Cas is a lady about to be escorted to the dancefloor. He chuckles self-consciously but curls his hand around Dean’s arm and follows him inside.

It’s a small place with soft lighting and old wooden furniture. Dean chose it for its Italian cuisine, which is the best in town according to various foody sites he looked up before he chose this place. The contrast to the bright and cheery hotel restaurant is remarkable. Cas needs a moment to adjust his eyes after the brightness outside. Dean’s arm feels warm under his hand and he presses down a little to show his appreciation while he looks around and breathes in the scents wafting over from the kitchen.

Dean waves for a waiter and tells him his name for the reservation. They are being led to a corner at the far side, where a small table is partitioned from the rest of the room. Dean leads Cas to his chair before he sits down opposite from him.

In the dim light and with the backdrop of the hushed voices around them, the table feels like a little bubble just for them. It’s intimate and warm, and the anxiety loosens in Cas’ chest with every breath. Dean claps his hand over the red checkered tablecloth. “I hope you like it,” he murmurs.

Cas turns his hand to fit his palm into Dean’s. “It’s wonderful Dean, I’m sure the food is amazing.”

They talk about nothing in particular while they wait for their dinner. The conversation flows easily – when Cas falls silent, Dean picks up the threat and entertains Cas’ with his never-ending supply of anecdotes from work. The food is delicious, but Cas can’t really concentrate on the rich flavor when Dean is sitting in front of him and eating with delight. His sensual mouth closes around every bite as if he’s starved for it, and he moans his appreciation in a downright filthy way. Cas has an inkling Dean does it on purpose, but he enjoys it too much to mention it.

Time flies by while they get to know each other. Every new thing Cas learns sheds another beam of light on the person he’s slowly falling for. Dean is so much more than the man he first saw at the reception desk. He’s bright where Cas is stern, energetic where Cas is contemplative, practical where Cas is academic. They shouldn’t fit so well, but they do, and in Dean’s warm eyes, Cas begins to see what Dean might see in him, a riddle to be solved, a yin to Dean’s yang that he wants to figure out. It’s what Cas feels anyway, and he’s sure he wouldn’t be able to figure Dean out even if he had years.

They avoid the topic of the future. Cas doesn’t even know where Dean lives, and asking for would give away too much. This still so fresh, and to learn that it will be over by the end of the week, because they live on opposite ends of the country – it’s a burden Cas wants to shoulder when he has to and not one second earlier. As a lawyer, he likes to know all the facts up to the last detail to be as prepared as possible. With Dean, though, he wants to enjoy the in-between as long as he can, and live in the moment for once in his life.

They share a slowly melting tartufo for dessert, feeding each other spoonful after spoonful, and the atmosphere shifts from comfortable to expectant. Dean’s eyes glow darker in the soft candle light, and heat rises in Cas’ cheeks when Dean licks his lips after the last bite. Dean’s lips will taste like chocolate, Cas muses, and finds himself mirroring the motion to see Dean’s gaze getting darker still.

Knowing that they’ll spend the night together does nothing to soothe the tension between them. Cas wants to draw it out, bottle the feeling of possibility up to take it home with him. He gets lost in Dean’s eyes for long moments and lets his mind wander to what will happen next. He wants to explore more of Dean, find out more about what he likes and give it to him with abandon. Dean promised there would be oral sex involved, and Cas’ dick twitches at the thought of those sinful lips wrapped around him. It’s like Dean can read his thoughts, because he licks his lips again, slowly and deliberate, even though the dessert is long gone.

“What are you thinking about, Cas?” he asks in a low voice that sends shivers down Cas’ spine.

“Your mouth,” Cas manages to say.

“I see,” Dean practically growls. His index finger is painting small circles into the palm of Cas’ hand. He looks like he wants to say more, but shakes his head with a chuckle and leans back, letting go of Cas’ hand. “Then I guess we should go and I’ll show you what I can do with that mouth, if you’re interested?”

Cas laughs and nods. Dean is an incorrigible flirt, and Cas shouldn’t fall for it so easily, but he does, he loves it when Dean looks at him from under his lashes and spouts those cheesy lines. He just wishes he was better at responding.

“I’m very much interested in finding out,” he tells Dean, which isn’t so much a pick-up-line as the truth. It seems to do the trick for Dean though as if Cas had told him that yes, he wants to find out what Cas’ dick would look like between Dean’s lips. Dean clears his throat and stands, closing his jacket carefully over his crotch. Cas smiles. If being prosaically honest is what gets Dean going, he can do that, in fact, it’s one of his very few talents.

They pay and leave in silence.

Cas still wonders how he can use his newfound knowledge how to make Dean squirm, when Dean grabs Cas’ by the neck and pull him forward into a deep kiss. Dean _does_ taste like chocolate and his lips are still a little cold from the dessert. Cas is melting against Dean, holds on to his back while Dean plunders his mouth with the same vigor and the same small sounds of pleasure as before, like Cas is something delicious, something to be devoured. The world around him spins while Dean kisses and kisses him, and Cas feels a bubble of laughter rising in his chest, pure happiness coursing through his body. They part with a smack.

“God, Cas, I can’t keep my hands off you,” Dean whispers against his ear, breath tickling the sensitive skin, before he slings an arm around him and turns. “Let’s head back to the hotel?”

Cas nods and leans his head on Dean’s shoulder for a moment. He’s still a little dizzy. The whole evening has a dreamlike quality, and Cas doesn’t ever want to wake up. He wants to go back to Dean’s room and get lost in Dean and be happy like tomorrow never comes. Ignoring the voice in his head telling him that nothing good will last, at least not for him, he grips Dean’s hand on his right shoulder and weaves their fingers together before he presses a quick kiss to Dean’s wrist.

“Let’s go.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Much. Fluff. 
> 
> I feel like I should apologize. We're back to smut in the next chapter, I promise.


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

They stumble into Cas‘ room still giddy with happiness. Cas is not sure what they’re laughing about between the messy kisses, but he doesn’t find it in him to care. When the door closes behind them, Dean is already fumbling with Cas’ shirt with one hand while shoving his jacket off with the other.

“Too much clothes”, he grumbles against Cas’ lips.

“You seemed to like the suit just fine earlier.” Cas nibbles on Dean’s full bottom lip and busies himself with undressing Dean in a more coordinated manner.

“That was then. Now I want them gone. Right. Now.” The third button an Cas’ shirt is no match for Dean’s rough handling and rips off with a pop. Cas has Dean down to his undershirt by then and pinches his side in reprimand.

“Be careful, it’s the only dress shirt I packed.”

Dean’s voice is muffled through the fabric of the undershirt that Cas is tugging over his head in one sweeping motion so Cas can’t quite make out his answer, but it doesn’t sound very apologetic. When Dean's chest is finally, blessfully naked, Cas dives in to mouth along his collarbone and Dean sighs.

“Cas, I’m trying to work here.”

Cas leans back and holds out his hands. “Alright, alright,” he smiles, and Dean sets to work again, peels Cas out of his shirt and undershirt and drops his hands to Cas’ belt. Cas stays still and watches Dean, lifts his right foot when Dean taps against it to get him out of his shoes and socks. After a small eternity, Cas stands completely naked in the middle of the room while Dean’s eyes move over his skin.

“Happy now?” Cas asks, and Dean nods slowly.

“Yeah,” he breathes and sinks to his knees.

Cas has only a second to catch his breath and find a solid stance, before Dean’s lips close around his filling cock. The sudden wet heat sends a shock through his system. Dean doesn’t give him time to adjust, just angles his head and takes him as deep as he can. Which is impressively deep.

“Holy –“. Cas hands come up to grab Dean’s head, to hold onto anything while he’s swept away by the feeling of Dean’s lips and tongue and – god, his throat, Cas is already nudging against the tight muscle and Dean keeps going and going. Cas looks down – a grave mistake, because the sight of Dean’s kiss-swollen lips stretched wide around his dick nearly makes his knees buckle.

Cas frames Dean’s head to hold him and swipes his thumb against his cheek to feel himself moving inside Dean’s mouth. Dean looks up, dark gaze full of mirth and joy, and then he winks and hums an encouraging note while he lets his mouth go slack. While Cas’ mind is still scrambling, his dick gets the message just fine. He hardens impossibly further when Dean places his hands on Cas’ thighs and nods once.

His first thrust is tentative. The head of his cock glides over Dean’s tongue slow and soft like velvet. Dean moans when Cas bumps against his throat and breathes deep through his nose. Cas holds his head carefully and pushes in again. His gaze is glued to Dean’s face – flushed cheeks, slick lips, blazing green eyes that meet his own in what almost looks like a challenge.

“You looks beautiful like this,” Cas praises as he slowly fucks into Dean’s mouth, surprising himself that the words come easy now. Dean’s eyes fall shut at that and he moans again. Cas keeps going, rocks his hips in a steady motion and tells Dean how pretty and how perfect he is.

The pressure builds fast. Cas whole body hums with pleasure, heightened by the knowledge how much Dean is enjoying himself. Cas never cared much for blowjobs – giving or receiving them, because there always seemed to be something degrading about it. Dean’s uninhibited enjoyment of the act wipes all those doubts away though. The trust and pleasure on Dean’s slack features moves something deep inside Cas just as his gut clenches with every thrust of his hips.

His breathing goes ragged, air wheezing in and out of his lungs, and he loses his rhythm again and again. He’s not able to form whole sentences anymore, and replaces them with variations of groans and Dean’s name.

Dean closes his lips tighter around him and sucks in his cheeks as if he’s urging him on. His eyes fly open and Cas gets lost in that gaze while he body stills, tenses as he’s riding that perfect plateau for long moments, unable to move, unable to look away. Slowly, slowly Dean leans closer, swallowing Cas to the root. The wave crests in slow-motion and buries Cas underneath. His cock jerks inside Dean’s mouth. He spills down Dean’s throat with a broken cry. Dean swallows, sending another wave of pleasure through Cas, and another, and another, until he’s spent.

He’s only got time to slip from Dean’s mouth before his knees buckle and he sinks to the ground in an ungraceful heap. Dean chuckles and clears his throat. “Told you I was good,” he whispers almost voiceless. His throat must be raw after the way Cas used it.

Cas reaches out his hand – his arms weighs about a ton – and wipes a drop of come from Dean’s bottom lip. “I’ll never doubt you again,” he answers.

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Wait! What’s that supposed to mean?”

Cas sighs. “I never much liked blowjobs,” he admits ruefully. He leans in to kiss Dean softly where’s he pouting at Cas’ words. “But you made me see the light,” he finishes and shoves Dean until he’s on his back.

“That’s … Cas, that’s blasphemy,” Dean mumbles, “blowjobs are the best, how can you even … ungh.” Cas puts his hand unceremoniously on the bulge in Dean’s slacks to shut him up.

“I already told you I see the grave error of my ways,” he tells Dean while he rubs a thumb up and down his length. “Would you allow me to continue on the path of my enlightenment?” At Dean’s nod, he opens the buttons of Dean’s pants, one at a time, and shoves the fabric down Dean’s hips. He takes his time taking off Dean shoes and socks, then realizes how rough the carpet is under his hands and helps Dean up on the bed. He tugs Dean’s pants all the way off, revealing a new set of panties – this one bright pink satin.

His mouth waters at the sight. He developed a new kink in only a few days it seems. He runs his fingertip along the hem and watches as the light material moves over Dean’s impressive erection. A wet spot grows quickly where the thick head pushes against the fabric, stretching it. Dean comes up on his elbows to watch as Cas dips the tip of index finger under the elastic band on his right thigh and leans in to mouth at the skin he revealed.

“Cas-“ Dean urges.

“Patience,” Cas grumbles and licks under the hem, reveling in the taste of salt and Dean, the smell of him. He runs his nose along the outline of Dean’s erection and places a soft kiss onto the head. Dean murmurs something under his breath, but keeps quiet while Cas teases him.

Experimentally, Cas opens his lips over the bulging head and sucks. Dean whimpers, so he does it again, until the fabric is soaked with his spit and more precome. The material feels odd under his tongue and tastes a bit like washing detergent, but Cas loves the way it makes Dean squirm and wriggle under him. When the panties are dark with wetness and Dean is panting, he gently pushes the waistband down under Dean’s balls and lets his erection spring free.

“God, finally,” breathes Dean. “Please, Cas, stop the torture.”

“And what do you propose I do instead?” Cas cushions his chin on Dean’s thigh and gazes up at him in what he hopes looks like innocent curiosity. His heart is pounding loudly in his chest. It’s not his style to play like this, and he’s more than little surprised how much he likes it. Dean’s eyes are blown when he stares back at him, his right eyebrow curving up elegantly as if it wants to tell Cas what a ridiculous question that is.

Dean inhales deeply and speaks slowly when he answers, each word placed with care. He touches Cas’ lips with a fingertip to underline his statement. “I want you to suck my cock, Cas. Put that gorgeous mouth on my dick. I wanna see your sinful lips stretched thin around me as you try and find out how much you can fit inside, I- arrghh,” Dean flops back onto the bed with a cry. “Yeah, fuck, just like that.”

Cas has never been good at taking orders, but he finds that he doesn’t mind following Dean’s, not when it shuts Dean up like that. Dean’s erection is a heavy weight on his tongue. He’s done this before but for some reason it feels like the first time. Dean’s reactions to everything he does heightens the experience into something completely new. Dean’s vocal about it, too, a fact that Cas learns to love, and he maps out every sound that falls from Dean’s lips, proud that he’s the reason. His tongue against Dean’s frenulum results in gasped out groans; when he dips into the slit he’s rewarded with a sweet sigh; when he opens his jaw wide and sinks down, down, down, until the head nudges his throat, broken, hoarse curses tumble out of Dean.

Dean’s hand finds Cas’ head and fingers sink into his hair, tugging, as if Dean is searching for something to hold onto. The sharp pain shoots right into Cas’ groin. With a start he realizes he’s getting hard again. Heat pools deep in his stomach. Cas bobs his head and sucks, delighted by the new raw groan he discovers when he tongues against the underside and sinks back down.

“Fuck, Cas, if – shit – if you’re this good at something – unnghhh – you don’t like, I can’t – god, do that again, there, right – oh – I can’t wait to get to the stuff you enjoy,” Dean stutters.

Cas lifts his head and lets go of Dean’s cock with a wet pop. It looks obscene as it flops back against Dean’s belly, shining with spit, dark red, swollen.

“I think you made me see the light,” he murmurs and licks away the fresh drop of precome that’s beading from the head of Dean’s cock. Cas might have formed a small addiction for the taste, but even more for way Dean’s stomach trembles under his hand when he does it.

“Yeah?” Dean asks, a stupid grin splitting his face. He strains to lift his head and look down at Cas, gaze flicking from Cas’ mouth to where he’s crouching on the bed, to where his enjoyment of the proceedings is evident.

Dean licks his lips. “You know what’s even better than giving blowjobs?” There’s the eyebrow again, followed by the obnoxious wink that sends shivers of anticipation down Cas’ spine. He’s in serious trouble, it seems, every time that wink is directed at him.

He sits up and crawls over to Dean’s head, leans down and captures Dean’s mouth. Dean’s tongue sneaks out eagerly, as if he can’t wait to get a taste of himself on Cas’ lips. He hums happily into the kiss. Cas will never get enough of the way Dean seems to thrive on touch and physical closeness. His chest tightens with the realization that he’s ready to give Dean whatever he needs, and that he’s never been happier than when Dean melts into his touch like this.

They kiss for a long moment. Then Dean breaks away and pats Cas’ shoulder. He obliges and lies down until his head is close to Dean’s groin. Dean wriggles until he finds a good position for himself. “Ready?” he asks, and Cas can hear the cheeky grin in his voice. A challenge? Fine by him.

Cas doesn’t answer, just grips the base of Dean’s cock to angle it to his mouth and closes his lips around it once more. Dean chuckles darkly and does the same. They both moan when the wet warmth of each other’s mouths envelope them.

Soon it’s clear Cas can’t concentrate on what he’s doing like before. Not when Dean swirls his tongue like that. The vibrations of Dean’s moans add to the sensation, so Cas takes Dean deeper to make Dean moan more, until each bob of his head brings a double reward with it. It looks like Dean is following the same plan, hell-bent on making Cas lose his mind in no time.

The lazy exploration and the eloquent tricks Dean started out with transform into something more carnal, more urgent as he swallows around Cas’ cock and grips his ass to hold him close and deep inside him. Cas mirrors the movement and finds that he can take Dean deeper in this position. He breathes slowly through his nose and keeps pushing forward, against the strange feeling of Dean’s cock bumping against the muscle of his throat. Ignoring the impulse to gag, he stops the forward motion, and when his body’s reaction subsides, he tries again.

Dean moans loud and low around Cas’ cock, then leans back and closes his hand around him instead of his lips. “Fuck, Cas, that’s – “

Cas’s throat aches but he wouldn’t stop for the world. Dean’s whole body is trembling when he swallows again and again. Dean still jacks him in a loose fist, and it’s not enough, Cas is so close already, and he reaches over to close his own hand around Dean’s while he sucks and swallows and revels in feeling Dean reaching that perfect crest, feeling his body tensing. He’s hyper aware of the moment just before Dean falls, stills the movements of his mouth and his hand because he doesn’t want to miss any part of it.

When Dean convulses and spills hot down his throat, he swallows greedily, and the pulses fill his mouth, drip out of the corner of his lips, and still Dean’s cock jerks and spits out more. Cas takes it all. All the while, he fucks into their combined palms, the sounds of Dean’s climax fresh in his ears, his taste filling his mouth even when his softening cock slips free. Cas lets his head fall on Dean’s thigh as he chases after his own release.

And then, then Dean’s lips close around him again and Dean’s hand picks up the speed. A shout rips from Cas' lungs at the sudden stimulation.

“Dean,” he chokes put, and maybe it’s a warning, but Dean ignores it, just hums that content hum again, the one that makes Cas so very helpless. He comes with thunderclap, so hard he blacks out for a second and his ears are ringing with the force of it. Dean works him through it, whispering hoarse endearment Cas can’t quite make out through the roaring in his heartbeat.

The air is thick like jelly when he gets his bearings. Dean’s soft cock is nestled against his nose and Cas has a good view of his testicles. His cheek sticks to the skin of Dean’s thigh, most likely glued together by a mix of sweat and come. Dean is lying half on his back, arms splayed out, one hand still between Cas’ legs.

“That was quite enjoyable,” Cas murmurs, and yelps when Dean smacks his ass with a lazy clap.

“It was amazing, is what it was,” Dean grouches. His voice drops to a whisper. “You are amazing.”

Cas’ heart swells with the words, and he regrets his offhand reaction. Dean’s breathing evens out while Cas still ponders what he could say in answers. His lids grow heavy. Despite the stickiness of his cushion and the way the soft hairs on Dean’s thigh tickle him, he’s actually quite comfortable. The warm afterglow of his orgasm makes his limbs heavy. “You too,” he murmurs at last, and he’s too tired to feel silly about it. It’s true, even if it’s by far not all Cas could say about Dean.

Dean’s probably asleep anyway.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

Cas floats slowly back to consciousness. His left arm lies uncomfortably under him, his face is squashed against warm skin. Drowsily, he realizes he’s not alone in bed. His right arm curls around a stomach, skin sticky with sweat. The body in his arms wriggles and a content sigh drifts through the room.

He’s in bed with Dean. Images of last night drift back to the surface, snapshots of their date and the hours after. The evening had been perfect, from start to finish, Cas thinks with a sense of wonder. He lets his mind drift through the memories, smiling a little when he remembers Dean’s shocked expression when Cas had told him about his indifferent stance towards blowjobs. Well, Cas had changed his mind on that.

Dean grasps Cas’ hand and tugs it tighter against his chest, weaving their fingers together right above his heart. Cas turns his face so he can press his lips into the valley of Dean’s spine and breathes deep, inhales Dean’s scent. He feels warm and heavy with quiet contentment and closes his eyes again to cherish the closeness a while longer.

“’s nice,” Dean murmurs sleepily. Cas wants to say he could get used to this, to waking up next to Dean, but it might be too much, too soon. He doesn’t know where they stand. It’s only been two days, he reminds himself. Having Dean in his arms feels so right and easy like breathing.

A blaring sound disturbs the silence. Cas needs a moment to make out the melody. It’s the opening of an old rock song, heavy guitars and a pulsing beat. _When The Levee Breaks_ , he thinks, Led Zeppelin. Dean groans and pats the bedside table with a murmured apology for the interruption.

“What’s up, Sammy?” he rasps as he brings the phone to his ear, sitting up with his back to Cas. Dean rakes a hand through his hair while he listens. Cas can’ help but admire the way his bicep flexes with the motion.

“No, no, it’s alright. I just woke up. Huh? Yeah.” Cas can hear the muffled sound of another voice over the speaker.

“Wait, what? Slow down, okay? Milton & Partners? That’s a good firm, isn’t it? Great news! I knew you’d make it!” Dean laughs. “Congrats, Sasquatch!”

Cas freezes when he hears the company’s name. They still haven’t talked much about their lives, apart from a few anecdotes from work and stories about their families, nothing that led to questions about a possible future. Now Cas’ blood runs cold and hot and cold again. Dean’s brother Sam apparently found a new job, and Cas would be happy for Dean who seems to be genuinely happy about the news.

But.

Milton & Partners.

It’s my firm, he thinks, stunned. What are the chances? Dean’s brother will be working for me and Gabe. He’s not sure how he feels about that, but he knows that this will make things way more complicated. He imagines Dean’s face when he tells him the news. How will he react?, Cas wonders. The chance that they will see each other again after this week just rose exponentially higher. Cas’ heartbeat picks up speed, until it’s thumping in his veins. Maybe there’s a future after all. If Dean is so happy about the new job that might very well mean he lives in the area, doesn’t it? As close as the brothers are, he can’t imagine Sam would want to live far away from Dean.

Cas’ mind reels. Images of shared Sunday afternoons pop up unbidden, Dean smiling while they cook together in Cas’ small kitchen. Cas shakes his head. Even if distance might not be a problem, he shouldn’t get his hopes up.

Cas doesn’t want to listen in while Dean speaks to his brother, but he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do. Dean gives no indication that he wants Cas to leave, his back is still turned to him, so Cas lies still and waits. It seems like Sam has a lot to say about his new job, while Dean just nods and hums in agreement. At one point, Dean turns quickly and meets Cas’ gaze for a second before he averts his eyes. Cas can’t decipher the look for the live of him.

“Me? Oh yeah, it’s great. Charlie’s here, too.” Cas waits for Dean to say something about him, about them, but Dean just huffs at what seems to be a question from Sam.

“Yeah, no.” Cas desperately wants to know what the question was, while the sinking feeling in his stomach tells him it had to be about Dean and if he met someone. “‘kay, Sammy. See ya next week, we gotta have a beer to celebrate,” Dean says and listens to another ramble from Sam.

Cas takes the chance and quietly gets up. He grabs his clothes and vanishes into the bathroom, heart pounding so hard in his chest that his throat goes tight and he feels a little light-headed. So Dean obviously doesn’t want his brother to know about Cas. From what Cas can tell from their conversations, the brothers open about every aspect of their lives with each other, so Dean not trusting Sam with the information can’t be the reason. No, he thinks, the reason is me. Dean doesn’t want to tell Sam because this is a fling, a holiday romance if that old-fashioned word even fits, a hook-up that will be forgotten next week.

His hands tremble when he pulls on his pants and slips into his shoes. The shirt is missing three buttons so he doesn’t bother with it, just puts on his t-shirt. When he tugs it over his head, he catches a look at himself in the mirror. His hair is a mess, his eyes wide and shining, his skin pale with shock under the harsh light. He looks like he just saw a ghost.

Cas berates himself for getting his hopes up, for falling for Dean so soon. After years of being alone, and yes, he has to admit, being lonely, he was stupid enough to lose his heart to the first handsome man that came along and made him feel wanted. _Stupid_. It wasn’t fair to Dean either who never once indicated this would be more than it was. Cas should get out before Dean realized Cas’ feelings. Dean’s pity would be unbearable. Being the genuinely caring person he was, he would try to comfort Cas. The thought alone lets bile rise in Cas’ throat.

Tears burn behind his eyes, the thick pressure in his forehead and the tightness of his throat a clear warning sign. He has to get out of here.

Cas bundles up his ruined dress shirt and leaves the bathroom. Dean stands next to the bed, still stark naked and so beautiful it hurts. The morning light kisses his skin and makes it glow from within, freckles dusting his shoulders and arms. The sun will coax out more over the next days, Cas is sure of that. Cas looks at him, greedy to take this image with him, commit the curve of Dean’s back, the swell of his ass, his heavy sex, his bowed legs to memory. He blinks against the threatening tears.

“I’m just ordering breakfast – Cas, you alright?” There’s genuine worry in his voice, but Cas knows now the warmth is something that comes natural to Dean, no matter who he’s talking to. Cas is nothing special. He fell to hard, too soon, misread Dean’s affections and his enthusiasm as something it’s not. He hardens himself for what he has to do next. His voice is clear and casual, even as his heart is breaking.

“You’ll have to eat alone. I– I’ve got something I have to – sorry. I’ll see you later?” Cas forces the jumbled sentence past the lump in his throat with sheer force of will.

The easy smile falls from Dean’s face as if it’s been wiped away. A crease builds between his brows while his eyes flicker over Cas’ face as if they’re searching for an explanation in his features. Cas can’t let him look for too long, because he knows his carefully schooled expression is crumbling at the edges. Cas is famous for his poker face at court. He wishes he could conjure it now, but his jaw already aches from clenching. He turns and walks over to the door.

“Oh. Okay. I see.” Cas hears the low _plock_ as Dean sets the phone down. The small sound echoes through the room with a sense of finality. Cas grips the door handle with a sweating palm, the other hand holding the shirt so tight it hurts. He can feel Dean’s gaze on his back, and fights the urge to turn around and tell Dean it’s been a mistake, of course he can stay.

They could have breakfast and go back to bed, make out and kiss and have sex. They could have today and tomorrow, and three mornings, afternoons and nights more, so many hours spent laughing and talking. Cas could lock his emotions away, make sure Dean never knows. He should. He should enjoy this while it lasts and save the heartbreak for later, when he’s alone in his house again and work will eat up his time and let him forget what he almost found at the Sunset Plaza.

He can’t. Others might be able to draw a clear line between fun and love, can have sex without a deeper connection, but Cas is broken somehow, he can’t have one without the other. He loathes himself for it, in this very moment, but he can’t change how he feels. And Dean, if he saw even the slightest chance this could turn into something serious, would have told his brother, wouldn’t he? At least that he met someone, even if he didn’t mention the name. Dean had looked at him when Sam apparently had asked about his vacation, and made up his mind to keep quiet.

“Bye Dean,” Cas whispers low enough that Dean won’t hear his voice breaking. The first burning tear grows and grows until it spills slowly over, runs down his cheek.

“Bye Cas,” Dean answers. He sounds old and tired all of a sudden. Cas closes the door behind him carefully. It almost doesn’t make a sound.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole thing got way more plotty than I anticipated. I guess there'll be around three more chapters, give or take.

He packs his bags, trying not to think about what happened in Dean’s room and refusing to look too closely at his decisions. When he takes one last look around the room to make sure he didn’t miss anything he realizes his cheeks are wet with tears. Cas wipes at them angrily and shuts the door behind him.

He has to go.

After checking out he stumbles through the lobby half-blind. His vision is blurry. When he bumps into someone, he apologizes absentmindedly and keeps going.

“Hey, Cas!” a familiar voice says. He turns, bone-weary, to face Charlie. The smile on her features vanishes when she takes in his appearance.

“What happened?” she asks, putting her small hand on his arm. “What did he do?” There’s a crease between her brows and she looks as if she’s about to run off and slap Dean.

“Nothing. He… did nothing.” Cas rubs a palm down his face and takes a deep breath. “It’s not his fault.” He swallows down the _it’s mine_ , because it would sound wrong, even though it is true. It’s his fault that he developed feelings like teenager, it’s his fault that he can’t enjoy the good thing they had without ruining it. He tries on a small smile that feels brittle and sad. “Would you tell him that I had to go?”

Charlie’s eyes are wide and full of sympathy. Cas has to look away, because the pressure behind his eyes rises again and his throat feels like he’s being strangled.

After a long while in which she seems to look right through him, analyzes his behavior on a molecular level for all Cas knows, Charlie nods.

“If that’s what you have to do,” she says slowly. She worries her lip as she contemplates her next words. “I think you should know that I haven’t seen him this happy in a long while. Dean’s my best friend, and I know he fucks things up now and then, but he’s good guy, Cas.” She lets her hand slide down his arm to grip his hand in a reassuring squeeze. “I hope you’ll change your mind about this.”

Then she rummages in her small backpack for a slip of paper and a pen. She scribbles two numbers and two names on it and pushes it into Cas’ open palm. “His number and mine. If you ever want to talk, I’ll listen.” She smiles up at him again.

“Why?” Cas asks and hates how rough his voice sounds.

“Because I think you’re a good guy, too,” she shrugs and tugs him into a short hug. “Take care, Cas.”

He swallows down the tennisball-sized lump in his throat and nods his thanks, before he turns and runs from the lobby.

A few hours later, he’s sitting behind his desk, staring blindly down on a file. He came straight to the office. The thought of his empty house and the silence of his living room, his bedroom was unbearable. Better to occupy himself with work. Stacks of files had greeted him when he sat foot into his office. This way, he doesn’t have to think about the fact that he can still smell Dean on his skin, that he can still feel the bruise on his hip where Dean sucked his mark into Cas’ skin. He doesn’t have to remember the small sounds of pleasure that fell from Dean’s open lips at Cas’ touch.

The letters on the page blur into unrecognizable shapes. He’s read the same paragraph five times and has no idea what it’s about.

The door opens with a draft of wind, and his brother steps into the office, apparently furious.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Gabriel demands as he storms into the room to loom over Cas. The looming only works because Cas is sitting down, but he doesn’t mention that, and he refrains from standing up, even though every brotherly instinct screams at him to assert his dominance. Cas deserves this. So he lets his brother loom over him.

“I came back early. I … ate something wrong, I think.” Cas mumbles, not even bothering with a believable lie, and avoids Gabe’s gaze.

“Bullshit,” Gabe gripes. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs like the weight of world is resting solely on his shoulders. His voice is softer when he continues. “What happened.”

“Nothing.” Cas looks down on his folder, rearranges his pen in a straight angle to the edge of his desk.

“Bullshit,” Gabe says again, lower. “Last time I saw you like this … wait. Did you meet someone?”

Cas knows what Gabe is referring to and he doesn’t need the reminder. The last time he felt like this was after Balthazar had left him. And how silly is that? To compare a break-up after three years to the fact that a one night stand didn’t end in a love confession? Cas hides his face in his hands and chuckles without humor.

“It doesn’t matter,” he mumbles against his palms, feeling like a child who admits that it’s afraid of the dark. “It’s over.”

He hears Gabe’s footsteps and then a warm hand lands on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, bro.” Gabe rubs his back like he used to when they were kids and Cas had the flu. It feels good. It feels like home.

“Will you tell me name of that bastard so I can hunt him down and sue him for something?”

“No. And I don’t think you’d find anything on him. He’s… he’s done nothing wrong.”

“Well, first: Everybody’s got some dirt on them and I would find it. I’m a damn good lawyer and you would do well to remember that. Second: Of course he’s done something wrong, otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting here, moping, and allow a perfectly fine vacation to lapse, a vacation I paid for, if I may remind you.”

“I’ll pay you back,” Cas murmured.

“It’s not about money, you idiot. It’s about you doing something for yourself for the first time in years and it ending in a disaster. I almost feel bad for sending you there.” Cas shoots him a look. “ _Almost_ ,” Gabriel emphazises. “No need for me to feel bad, too. You seem to have that covered.”

There’s knock on the door. Cas takes a steadying breath and says, “Come in.”

The doorframe darkens from the sheer mass of a tall man with long brown hair and wide eyes. He’s clutching a manila folder to his massive chest. “I hope I’m not interrupting?” the newcomers asks, eyes flicking from one brother to the other.

“No, not at all,” Gabe practically croons as he rounds Cas’ desk to stand in front of the tall man, close enough that he has to look up to him. Which he does. Like he’s admiring a painting. What happened here when I was gone, Cas wonders. Sam doesn’t seem to mind the attention, and blushes slightly.

Gabe clears his throat as if he’s only now remembering they’re not alone in the room. “I wanted to introduce you to my brother anyway. He came back early from his trip.” The brown eyes of the young man flicker over to Cas, a smile on his lips. Cas stands and walks over, extends his hand which is met with a good, tight grip. His heart thunders in his chest, but he tries to keep his gaze levelled and his breathing shallow.

“Sam Winchester, I’m so excited to finally meet you, Mr Novak,” Dean’s brother says and Cas plasters on a benevolent smile.

“Please, call me Castiel. I’m glad you chose our firm and I’m looking forward to working with you.” The handshake ends, and Cas feels like he’s just run a mile. He barely stops himself from wiping his hand on his pants, sure it will be sweaty. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of work to catch up on.”

Gabe leads Sam out with a light touch on his arm, still very, very close to their new associate. Cas grins despite himself, before the implications crashed down on him like a landslide. What the hell is he supposed to do now? It was only a matter of time before anyone slips up, and people would realize that Cas’ mysterious heartbreaker is in fact Sam’s brother. The firm is small, and people gossip all the time.

He slouches back in his chair and pities himself. The one time he only wanted to have a good lay and he managed to fuck it all up. He stares at the door, not actually seeing anything, until Alfie, his secretary comes in to ask him if he can go home.

It’s nine o’clock.

Cas still hasn’t read that damn paragraph.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally found my way back into this story. Let me know what you think?
> 
> Unbeta'd as usual.

 

Cas does what he does best. He buries himself in work. He gets up early in the morning, goes out for a run while the mist is still clinging to the ground, eats a bowl of cereal, absentmindedly, leaning against the counter, gets a large black coffee on the walk over to the office and then – there’s no room to think of anything but work.

He takes on new clients, dives into his cases with everything he’s got. He’s good at this. And he loves his job.

With detached curiosity, he watches his brother fall in love with their new associate. The brash flirting makes way for covert glances and small smiles that Gabe thinks will go unnoticed. Gabe and Sam work well together, despite being polar opposites in character. Sam is quiet and careful, a bookworm who loves to do research and accepts standing in the limelight as a necessary evil. Gabe, on the other hand, is always at his best when he knows the audience is focused completely on him. He lives for the scheming and the plotting that comes along with going to court – he can read his crowd, that is the jury, like an open book. Together, Sam and Gabe are a force to be reckoned with.

If Cas gave himself the chance to think about it, he would see the same compatibility between him and Dean. He would realize that he gave up way too early and for the entirely wrong reasons, but, being who he is, he shoves that thought down whenever it surfaces, mostly in the few silent hours he spends at home with not distraction to stop him.

The weeks fly by. Summer turns to autumn. Autumn turns to winter. The first snow covers the pavement when he rushes to work one morning, and Cas squints against the brightness of the icy winter day, marveling at the crisp air. He always loved winter. Now it’s just an inconvenience.

His favorite coffee shop opens at six, so he’s waiting outside while the staff is getting the shop ready. Hands buried deep in the pockets of his coat, Cas catches his reflection in the windows. He lost weight over the last months, and his cheeks are dusted with stubble. He needs a shave. And few nights of sound sleep, if he’s being honest. Dark rings lie under his eyes, and his own stare feels foreign when he meets it, empty.

He really should be over it by now, he tells himself for the millionth time. His sad face stares back unperturbed. He sets his jaw, promising himself a fresh start. He _will_ get over it.

The door opens and Benny Lafitte, the owner, waves him in.

“No need to wait outside, Mr Novak,” he drawls in his warm southern accent. Cas steps inside with a quiet thanks and waits while Benny prepares his extra strong Java. There’s nothing like the fragrance of fresh coffee to start a morning right, and for the first time in a long while, Cas allows himself to find a little joy in it. The bell is chiming as another customer enters and stands next to Cas at the counter. Benny takes his order. “Name?” he asks while he pours the dark liquid in Cas’ cup and hands it over the counter.

“Dean,” a voice answers next to Cas, and his heart stops for a second. He turns so fast, a few drops of his coffee spill over his hand, burning-hot. The guy next to him is thin, short and lanky, long brown hair hanging in strands around his face.

“Dude,” he says, pointing at Cas’ hands where angry marks must be forming already. Cas just keeps staring, heart pounding in his throat. There’s room for only one thought in his mind, that name, the name he doesn’t think about, that name and all it stands for, and the all-consuming yearning, held back for so long with flimsy barricades, that crashes down on him right there. So much for early morning resolutions. He mumbles an apology, wipes his hand on his coat and leaves while Benny is still muttering that Cas should at least cool the burned skin. Cas moves blind, slips on the pavement and spills more of his coffee, until he throws the cup into the nearest trash bin.

When he gets back to the office, he sinks into his chair, ready to let the world swallow him whole. His laptop chooses his moment of existential despair to ping with a new mail. The invitation to the annual Milton and Partner Christmas Party. Everyone is encouraged to bring family and partners. He laughs without the least bit of humor. Cas can count the people he spoke to outside of work in the last weeks on one hand. He wonders if he should ask Benny to come, since most days the friendly barista is the closest thing he has to a friend. He closes the mail with a sense of finality. Spending an evening between happy people celebrating with friends and family sounds like his worst nightmare. He will tell his brother he won’t go this year. Gabe will understand.

 

“The hell you won’t go,” Gabe interrupts him when Cas tries to explain. He sits on the edge of Cas’ desk, a habit Cas despises, but doesn’t bother to point out. “It’s your firm, too, and you have an obligation to show up.”

Cas buries his head in his hands and sighs.

“Look, little brother, this has got to stop. You had your heart broken and I get that, but now it’s time to pick up your life again.” Gabe’s tone is soft and sympathetic. God, he must be real mess when his brother talks to him like that. “Come to the party. Maybe you’ll meet someone who can distract you from your misery.”

Cas looks up and squints at Gabe, suddenly suspicious. “What are you planning?”

Gabe grins his most annoying grin. “Won’t say”, he chirps. He hops off the desk and walks over to the door.

“Gabe,” Cas groans, “please.”

“Please what?” Gabe turns next to the door. “Please hook me up with a handsome guy so I won’t sulk anymore and drag the mood of the whole firm down?” He tips his imaginary hat. “Consider it done.”

“I’m not sulking,” Cas says to the closing door, but Gabe doesn’t deem that lie worthy of an answer.

 

The bar is dim and warm and full of voices. Cas dusts a few errant snowflakes from his trench coat when he enters and lets his gaze wander over the crowd. There’s a slim but very real possibility that Sam brought his brother. That possibility had his stomach in knots since the evening after the invitation arrived. One part of him is terrified that Dean will be here, one part is terrified that he won’t. Right now, the first one is stronger.

Cas makes his way through the throng of people waiting at the bar and finds Gabe in a booth next to the snooker table. Sam sits next to him, long legs stretched out under the table. Cas can’t be sure in the low light, but he thinks he can see a hand that’s definitely not Sam’s resting on his thigh. Covering a smile with a cough, he greets his colleagues. So Dean’s not here. The sudden ache in his heart is piercing, but he tells himself he’s relieved.

Gabe points to the spot next to him. “Sit down, Cas, and have a drink with us.”

Cas slips out of his coat and sits down, far enough away from his brother so that he won’t be able to see what their hands are doing under the table. He’s happy for Gabe, he really is, but there are lines that are better left uncrossed. The table is already filled with an eclectic assortment of drinks – five shot glasses filled with unidentifiable spirits, a cocktail with a ridiculous paper umbrella and a rainbow colored straw, two beer bottles and a whisky tumbler. The beers look untouched, so Cas grabs one, finds Sam nodding, and takes a long gulp.

Colleagues come and go, sitting down on the empty chairs at the table for a little bit of small talk before the go on to play snooker or dance on the small floor that’s huddled in one corner of the bar. Cas drifts in and out of the conversations, content to listen and people-watch. He notices Gabe’s and Sam’s eyes drifting to the door whenever it opens, but he doesn’t dare ask who they’re waiting for. The person never arrives. Neither does the mysterious date Gabe alluded to when they talked about the party weeks ago.

Gabe and Sam go dancing at one point, and Cas doesn’t mind staying behind alone. He drinks and he wallows. A few beers in, he’s convinced that Dean was invited but didn’t show up because he didn’t want to see Cas. Two shots later, he’s sure Dean wouldn’t know Cas would be here, because let’s be honest – would Sam talk about his sorry ass when he told stories about work? _Oh yeah, Dean, I’ve got this colleague who’s never talking to anyone and burying himself in work, he’s a real hoot_?

An hour later, Cas can’t say for sure his time with Dean ever happened. Could he have imagined it all? Is he losing his mind? He rips small pieces from the label in his bottle – a task that’s taking all his concentration at this point – and tries to remember the details of their time together. They come in bits and pieces after he denied himself to think about it for so long. The color of Dean’s eyes. The small wrinkles when he smiled. His smell. The softness of his skin.

Cas sighs wistfully and looks up to watch the party unfold around him, without him. Gabe and Sam are dancing really close to some sappy 80s ballad, grinding against each other with flushed faces and dark eyes. Cas wishes them well, but the part of him that’s prone to self-pity seems to be amplified by the booze and the cavity-inducing slow-dance, and he’s got to look away from the couple when his eyes start to burn.

He needs some fresh air.

Putting on his coat proves to be too much of an obstacle. He gets stuck with his left arm halfway in and gives up altogether when he can’t reach the fabric behind his back. So he bundles the coat up into a ball to stuff it under his arm and makes a beeline for the exit, bumping into warm bodies right and left, murmuring apologies. It takes hours to get to the door.

When he finally makes it outside, he night slams into him like a fist. The cold air burns his lungs and his nose goes numb in a second. He blinks against the clear night sky, waits for his eyes to adjust. He’ll have to fumble out his phone soon to call a cab, but for the moment he’s content to let the cold seep into his skin and sober him up a little.

What a mess of an evening.

What a mess of a year.

A lone figure is occupying the parking lot, leaning against a sleek black car and breathing clouds into the night. It’s a guy, broad-shouldered, bundled up into a leather jacket and a thick scarf. He looks up when Cas curses his clumsy fingers as he’s fishing for his phone in his slacks. Cas concentrates on his screen, tries to unlock it three times in a row and goes for the fourth when a deep voice speaks up next to him.

“Need a little help there, Cas?”

Cas knows that voice, reacts to it on a molecular level, but his mind played tricks before. Warily, he lifts his head and faces the man next to him. Green eyes, full lips and a worried frown, all a bit blurred around the edges. Cas throat works, clicks around a name.

He swallows hard.

Tries again.

“Dean,” he chokes out, just when his stomach lurches.

Dean’s shoes, well-worn dark brown work boots with one of the black laces frayed at the end, – what an interesting detail to notice –, are the last thing Cas sees before his eyes squeeze shut.

And he throws up.

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

Dean steps away gingerly but stays at Cas’ side. When Cas is done hurling the remnants of his dinner and the last shreds of his dignity onto the pavement, Dean starts cleaning the worst of the puke from his shoes with a tissue, then lays a warm hand on Cas’ neck.

“Better?”

Cas nods weakly but stays bent over.

“Then let’s get you to the car.” He leads Cas over to the massive black Chevy and opens the passenger door so Cas can scramble inside. Dean flops down on the driver seat a few seconds later and fishes a water bottle from the back seat.

“Drink that”, he orders, and Cas obeys, grateful for the chance to get sour taste out of his mouth and having an excuse to not talk.

Dean gets his phone out and thumbs out a short message, before he leans back and rakes a hand through his hair, muttering something under his breath. Cas strains to make out the words. He _thinks_ Dean murmured “Well, that didn’t go so well,” but he can’t be sure.

The phone in Dean’s hands buzzes with an incoming call that Dean accepts with a sigh. The voice on the other end is agitated and quite loud.

“Sam -,” Dean tries but is talked over. “Sammy. Look, I don’t have the time or energy right now to explain, but yes, I know him, and yes, I’m gonna get him home. Save your questions for tomorrow alright?”

There’s a short answer. Dean sighs again and ends the call.

Cas gulps down the last drops from the bottle and sinks into the cushions of the seat, in the vain hope they might swallow him. He’s had a few low points in his life but this might actually be the worst. He knows why he keeps away from people. Emotions are messy. In law, there’s right and wrong, black and white. Sometimes it’s hard to find out the truth but there are rules and precedents and he knows his way around them. Here, he feels like swimming in dark and muddy waters. He wants to reach out and crawl into Dean’s arms. He wants to get out of the car and never look back, never feel like this again.

Dean starts the engine to let it idle, and turns up the heater. Cas realizes only then that his teeth are chattering and his hands are numb with cold. He rubs them against his pants.

The silence drags on.

Cas’ mind is full of cotton, thought jumbled and unable to connect. At first glance, Dean seems content to just sit there and say nothing, but Cas sees the strain in his jaw and feels his eyes flicker over every few seconds. When their gazes meet, Cas looks away.

“What are you doing here?” he croaks out, unable to stand the silence any longer.

Dean laughs tonelessly but turns his head to look Cas over. His smile is slow and wistful.

“Now’s not really the time for that conversation, is it?” He shakes his head as if he wants to clear his thoughts. “How about you tell me your address and I’ll take you home. What you need right now is a toothbrush and a good night’s sleep.” He gazes out of the windshield, watches the snowflakes melt against the warm glass. The lights of the bar blur into watercolors before the wipers sharpen them again.

Cas is not sure he’s ready to take the offer, but on the other hand, there’s not really an option. He’s confident he can’t embarrass himself any more than he already did. And after longing for such a long time to see Dean again, he’ll take this chance, even if it will hurt more in the morning. He mumbles his address and gives Dean a few directions, watches as Dean navigates the car out of the parking lot and unto the empty street.

It’s a twenty minute drive to his house. Cas’ body warms up and the fog in his brain clears a little. The laywer in him starts putting together the puzzle with the few pieces he’s got. Sam didn’t know that Dean has met Cas before. That means, Dean still hasn’t told him about their time together. But what is Dean doing here, then? His head is pounding while he tries to wrap it around the fact that he’s sitting next to Dean, Dean’s here and Cas is drunk and his life is awful.

Dean parks the car on the curb and rounds it to open Cas’ door like the gentleman he is, trudges alongside him up to the steps that lead to Cas’ house. Cas fumbles out his keys with clumsy fingers. It takes long enough that Dean sighs and grabs the keys from him to open the door himself.

“Thank you,” Cas murmurs with a small but embarrassing hiccup when they step into the hallway and Cas turns on the lights. He squints against the brightness and straightens to face Dean.

“Thank you for taking me home, and sorry I ruined your evening.” The door is still open and cold wind sweeps into the room. He doesn’t close it, because that would mean he assumes Dean wants to stay. He isn’t even sure that he _does_ want that, but he doesn’t want him to go either. He’s swaying a little on his feet while he waits for Dean’s reaction. The harsh light in the hallway seems ten times brighter than a few hours ago when he got ready to leave. His head pounds with each beat of his heart.

Dean waves the apology away. He glances toward the open living room at the other end of the hall. “Are you hungry?” He rubs a hand down his face. “Probably not.” Dean looks unsure and nervous and somehow that makes it easier for Cas.

“I … could make coffee,” he offer lamely and points in the general direction of the kitchen.

Dean nods. “Lead the way.”

A bathroom break to brush his teeth, two cups of strong coffee, a tall glass of water and a few crackers later, Cas starts feeling like a person again. Dean makes light conversation while they sit on Cas’ couch, a conversation to which Cas doesn’t have to contribute more than a _yes_ , _no_ or _mh-mmmhh_ now and then. It’s easy and comfortable, to sit here in the middle of the night with Dean and forget for a while how royally he fucked up. Cas eyes start to droop in the middle of another one of Dean’s work stories. Dean gently bumps his arm.

“You should go to bed, Cas. Mind if I use your couch for a nap before I drive back?”

Cas shakes his head to clear it, but it’s foggy. He scrambles to his feet and waits for his equilibrium to get back online. Grabbing blindly for Dean’s shoulder, he squeezes it lightly. Dean’s startled inhale is loud in the sudden silence of room.

Right.

No touching.

They’re past that and it’s Cas’ fault. At another time, in another world, he’d have offered Dean to sleep in his bed, and maybe, just maybe they’d be drifting together in their sleep and Cas would have felt that warmth again, that comforting warmth that shrouds Dean like a cloak.

“Sorry,” he murmurs and turns to get blankets and pillows out of a drawer. He hands them over without locking at Dean. “Stay as long as you like.”

Dean makes a sound deep in his throat, as if he’s upset, as if he wants to say something but decides against it. They stand still, both grabbing the blanket, and Cas is choking on the words he wants to say, not just the big things like how much he missed Dean, but also the small things like how he can see so many mannerisms of Dean in Sam, how he can’t go past a vintage car without thinking of him. He wants to ask why Dean came to the party, and why he took Cas home even after everything he did. The words lodge in his throat like bricks. It’s painful to swallow them down, but easier than spitting them out.

“I’m sorry,” he says again with no clear idea for what exactly, and Dean makes that huffing sound again, and then Cas is out of the room and his bedroom door closes and he takes a deep breath. His stomach heaves and he’s almost certain he’ll puke again. But then he’d have to go down the hall to get back to the bathroom and Dean would hear and he would offer his help and Cas can’t stand any more of that.

So he breathes.

And then he strips down to boxers and shirt and crawls into his bed. He grabs his second pillow and curls around it, feeling equal parts sorry for and disgusted with himself. He can hear the faint rustle of sheets from the living room, where Dean gets comfy to sleep for a few hours before he’ll leave and forget about Cas for good.

In a few years, Cas will be one of Dean’s amusing stories, the guy I used to screw, the guy that threw up on my shoes. The coward that ran away. The self-pity is winning out against the self-deprecation, apparently. Lungs tight, eyes burning with tears, Cas hugs his pillow and falls asleep.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys! Thank you all for your wonderful feedback, it's greatly appreciated!! I love it when you share your theories of what will happen next (and remind me to fill a few plotholes *cough*). Y'all are awesome! 
> 
> I guess there'll be two more chapters after this (in which we will get back to the sexy times and get a few more answers), hope you stick around!

 

He awakes from sound of metal banging.

There’s someone in the house, someone’s …

Sitting up, his blood rushes down and leaves behind a dull pounding in his head. His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth. He’s parched and dizzy and…

 _Dean_.

Cas looks over to his bedroom window. It must be at least 9, as high as the sun is standing over his backyard. He comes to unsteady feet, lets the coldness of the floor soak into his soles.

_Last night._

Glimpses of his humiliation come back to him, each one sharp, like a knife to his skull. He groans. Another bang rings from the kitchen.

 _Dean is still here_.

Cas rakes a hand through his hair and closes his eyes. He contemplates fleeing through the backdoor but decides against it. Might as well face whatever’s waiting for him in the kitchen.

As it turns out, it’s the heavenly smell of bacon and the sight of Dean, stretching up to get plates from a cabinet, showing off a slim strip of skin and the embroidered waistband of what _have_ to be lace panties.

Light blue lace panties. It’s not fair.

The blood that just managed to find its way up to his brain again returns south one more time. His mouth waters at the sight. At least the saliva chases away the cottony taste. Small mercies. He swallows hard.

A thought tries to worm its way through the rush of endorphins.

Dean put those panties on yesterday.

Before he went to a party.

Where he knew Cas would be.

He realizes he’s mulled that thought over for much too long. Dean is already back at the pan, watching the bacon fry, totally oblivious to Cas watching him like a creep. Cas clears his throat to announce his presence. When Dean turns, Cas clasps his hands in front of his lower body. Mornings and Dean-in-panties, that’s a dangerous mix. Better safe than sorry.

He braces himself but still, Dean’s smile is blinding.

“Morning, Cas.” Dean waves his hand to indicate the kitchen. “I hope you don’t mind?”

“What-,” Cas clears his throat again. “What are you doing here?” It comes out rougher than intended. His vocal chords feel like they’ve been sandblasted.

Dean’s smile falters. He looks worried for a second. “You don’t remember?”

Cas’ expression falls into something sour. “Oh I remember, I remember everything.” God, he’d give a lot to forget that. “But I thought you’d …”

Dean puts the plate in his hand down on the table very slowly, carefully. “Oh.” He looks around and turns off the stove, wipes his hands on a towel and straightens his back. “I wanted to make breakfast, but if you’d rather … I mean, I’ll go …”

Cas’ brain is still trying to catch up. “Wait. No, I didn’t mean ...” He walks over the stove, ignores the tingling sensation where he brushes against Dean’s side and turns the gas back on. “Please. Stay.”

He concentrates on the sizzling bacon while Dean sets the table. Dean apparently made pancakes that he stashed in the oven to keep warm. Cas’ stomach grumbles loudly when he finds out. Dean snickers.

They don’t talk. They sit down and eat, and they still don’t talk. Cas gets up to make coffee, because Dean didn’t. He felt intimidated by the Italian machine, he tells Cas. Cas putters around with the freshly ground beans. He doesn’t use the machine often since the coffee shop is right around the corner, but now he’s glad he spent the money on this monstrous contraption. It gives him the chance to turn his back and look busy while he goes over the facts again. He feels calmer when he sits back down, but none the wiser.

Dean smiles a little smile when Cas hands him his coffee and their fingers touch for a second, but Cas still doesn’t find the words to start a conversation they should have had much, much sooner. This could feel like a typical Sunday morning of a couple who’ve known each other for years and enjoy the silence of a lazy breakfast. It could, but it doesn’t, because of the giant cloud of open questions that’s hanging in the air between them.

Stomach full, coffee warming him up and clearing his mind, Cas runs out of excuses to put this off any longer.

“What are you doing here, Dean?”

“I slept on your couch, man. Making breakfast is the least I could do.”

“You didn’t have to do anything after what I did last night.”

“Wasn’t your fault, buddy, we’ve all been there.” Dean’s smile is easy, but the way his grip tenses on his mug is not.

Cas tries again. “What I mean is. Why were you there? At the party?”

Dean wriggles around in his seat.

“Maybe I wanted to see you again?”

Dean breathes out, slowly, through his mouth, sets his coffee down and puts his hands flat on the table.

“After you left, at the Sunset Plaza, I waited. Wanted to see if you’d work through whatever made you run off. Patience is not my strong suit, but I tried, I really tried. But then … then my stupid brother tells me your brother wants to set you up with someone, and I … I snapped. I had to see you, see if you…”

Cas holds out his hands to stop Dean’s rambling. “Wait, hold up please. You… knew that Sam is working at my firm?”

Dean laughs, a short burst, as if he’s honestly surprised by the question.

“Or course I did. Found out about 30 minutes after you’d left the hotel. Charlie’s a genius with computers, you know? I had your name, wasn’t really that hard to piece it all together.”

The pounding in Cas’ head is back with force. Black dots flicker in and out of his field of vision. He focuses on Dean’s hands.

“So you knew why I left?”

Dean shrugs and tugs his hands back to curl them around his mug.

“I had a few ideas.”

When he doesn’t elaborate, Cas digs on.

“What ideas?”

Dean doesn’t meet his eyes. Licks his lips. It’s as distracting as it is endearing. “I … wondered if you’d run because you were embarrassed.”

“Whatever for?”

“To be seen with someone like me. A grease monkey with loose morals. That… that your brother would know you … and me, you know.” He shrugs again, and his shoulders look smaller somehow.

Cas shakes his head, too shocked to react to that ridiculous notion for a moment. “You … it’s _you_ that was ashamed of _me_!”

Dean’s head snaps up. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Cas answers through clenched teeth. “You talked to your brother. That morning. On the phone. And you didn’t mention me.”

Now it’s Dean’s turn to look flabbergasted. He snorts.

“Dude. Do you even know my brother? He gets excited when I tell him that I tried a new cereal brand. He once compiled a binder about the pros and cons of porridge. If he gets even a whiff of a hint that I’m seeing someone, I would have a file as thick as my arm about that person on my desk two hours later.” He snorts again. “You were in the room, Cas. There’s no way I would have let him interrogate me over the phone while the person in question is in the room.”

Cas lets that sink in for a minute, sipping his coffee and glancing over at Dean now and then. Dean sounds honest. In the short time they’ve known each other Cas learned that Dean might in fact have rather _loose morals_ when it came to sexual relations, but he’s not deceitful.

And Cas is painfully aware that he overreacted that morning. He should have stayed. He should have asked Dean about the phone call. But there’s still the fact that it all moved way too fast for him. His feelings for Dean had grown too fast. If he’s being honest with himself, that’s why he ran, because he’s a coward and he’s not good at this. He hangs his head.

“I would never be ashamed of you, Dean. You are a wonderful, funny, empathetic person, and whoever you choose to be with will be a happy man.” His voice is nothing more than a whisper, and the words hurt, not just because of his still raw throat.

“Or woman,” Dean adds.

Cas nods solemnly. “Of course.”

“So if I had a lucky bastard – or bastardess – in mind, you’d tell me to go for it?” Dean should really look unappealing while he shovels the last pancake into his mouth and licks the syrup off his fingers.

Cas nods again, eyes glued to Dean’s lips.

“Okay, then let’s rewind half an hour and talk again about the fact that I’m here because I couldn’t stand the idea that you had a date with someone else.”

“You did mention that. I’m still not sure how you came in contact with my brother and his mischievous plans.”

“I wouldn’t call his attempt to get you out of your lonely shell mischievous, but whatever. He told Sam you needed to meet someone, Sam told Gabriel that I’m single and voila, a set-up was planned.” Dean drinks the last sips of his coffee. “Can’t say that I really thought it through though. Must have been quite the shock for you to see me in the parking lot.”

“I vomited,” Cas clarifies, and earns a grin.

“Yes, you did.”

They both stay silent after that. Cas finishes his coffee, too. The clock in his kitchen ticks on as if this is an ordinary morning and Cas’ life isn’t in the process of being turned upside down. Hope rises hesitantly in his chest.

“So, in conclusion, what you’re saying is that we’re both dumbasses,” he grouches but can’t help the small tug of a smile.

Dean’s lips twitch, too, then widen until he grins his dazzling sun-warm grin. “Yeah, Cas, I guess that’s what I’m saying.”

They smile at each other for what feels entirely to long for a sane person to smile at another, but Cas doesn’t care. His mind, finally catching up with the fact that there might still be a chance to right these wrongs, falls into the gutter fast and hard.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you’re wearing panties,” he muses.

Dean’s smile changes. Something flickers over his eyes. “Is that so?”

Feeling bold, Cas drops his voice a little lower, just to see how Dean reacts.

“Just an observation.”

It’s still there, the heat in Dean’s eyes, the answering tightness low in Cas’ belly, as if the last weeks didn’t happen. The ease of falling into playful banter. There’s still a lot to talk about, but right now, Cas wants to wrap himself in this feeling.

“I put them on for someone special,” Dean tells Cas’, low, as if he’s sharing a secret.

“Lucky bastard,” Cas agrees.

“So,” Dean says, eyes glued to Cas’, “do you have a spare toothbrush?”

Cas laughs, loud and honest, like he hasn’t laughed in, well, months. “As a matter of fact, I have.”

As they stand in front of Cas’ sink, mouths frothing with toothpaste, he finds it hard to stop smiling. The crinkles around Dean’s eyes are addictive. Their gazes meet in the mirror and hold on. Cas could spend every morning like this. Dean’s forearm brushes against his, and this time, Cas doesn’t pull away but presses closer. The last month made on thing crystal clear: He wants this, wants something real with Dean, and he hopes Dean wants that, too.

 

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised.

 

Dean’s done first and leans against the sink while Cas finishes up. When he straightens, Dean surges. A warm hand on Cas’ neck, and Dean is there, close, but stops right before their lips meet.

“This okay?”

Cas nods, a barely there motion, but it’s enough. Dean’s lips are cold from the tap water, firm and confident. Cas melts against Dean’s body, hands on Dean’s hips to feel the warmth of his skin through the t-shirt. The sink is digging into his side. The kiss is nothing more than a brush of lips at first, but it’s already enough to make that well-known flame inside him flare again. Heat is spreading where their breaths meet and mingle.

“Missed you,” Dean whispers. “Does than sound stupid?”

“No.” Cas presses forward until their bodies are touching, chests to thighs. Dean’s face is little more than a blur this close. When Cas squints his eyes, he can focus on a single freckle on Dean’s left cheek. Cas brushes his thumb along the waistband of Dean’s jeans. He can feel the edge of the lace. “No, I missed you, too.”

Dean grins at that, and then his lips are back, still stretched from the smile, pressing kisses on the edge of Cas’ mouth and nipping at his lips. Cas, getting impatient, tightens his hold and angles his head in invitation.

There’s a sigh lodged in his chest that finds its way out when Dean reacts, licks against the seam of his lips and dips inside Cas’ mouth. A tension that kept him strung tight for the last weeks loosens when Dean kisses him in earnest, curls his hand around Cas’ neck and makes a contended little sound, like he’s yearned for this just as much as Cas.

Cas’ body, after all this time of being nothing more than a thing to transport him to work and back, comes alive under Dean’s hands and his lips. His skin tingles and he’s breathing deep and freely. His lungs seem to get the first real air since that morning at the Sunset Plaza. He dips his fingers between Dean’s jeans and the panties to rub the fabric against Dean’s skin, earning a small wanton sound that shoots right to his groin.

“Let me see,” he rasps and tugs on a belt loop.

Dean laughs against his lips. “Impatient, huh?”

Cas growls in answer and tugs again. “I’ve been very, very dumb, and I apologize, but right now…” He looks up into Dean’s eyes, lets out a steadying breath. “I can’t believe you’re here. I just need to…”

He lets his eyes dart away, but Dean’s not having it. He guides Cas’ chin back with his index finger, until Cas’ can’t look away anymore.

“I know, Cas. Me too.”

The moment lingers. Something profound expands in the air between them. Cas’ heart hammers in his chest. He wants to ask what Dean means by that, but he can’t even put his own emotions into words. His blood is roaring in his ears, his body trembling with want and uncertainty. Dean’s eyes are wide and dark and earnest, and Cas could easily get lost in them. That is, until Dean winks and breaks the spell.

Cas keeps their gazes locked when Dean drops his hands and opens his fly, when Dean shoves down his jeans and steps out of them, when Dean lifts his shirt to reveal his stomach. Dean smiles and tugs the shirt over his head, and that’s when Cas allows himself to look.

The lace sits snug on Dean’s hips and strains around Dean’s cock.

Just like each time before, Cas is struck by how beautiful, how absolutely mouth-watering Dean looks in nothing but his panties. He reaches out and trails a finger along the seam, from Dean’s hip bone down to his thigh. The soft hair on Dean’s legs tickles his fingertip.

“I thought about you when I bought them,” Dean admits. His breath hitches when Cas’ hand brushes the growing bulge inside the fabric. “Thought they would match your eyes when you’re kneeling in front of me and tug them off me with your teeth,” Dean adds, a little rough and with a smile in his voice.

“Is that what you want?” Cas asks. Saliva pools under his tongue just thinking about it. The weight of Dean’s erection deep inside his mouth, the stretch and pressure, and god, the sounds Dean makes.

Dean weaves his fingers into Cas’ hair and pulls him into another deep kiss. Cas sucks on Dean’s tongue, circles it with his own and casually brushes against Dean’s groin again. Dean tugs on his hair harder. “Later. Right now, I want to take a shower.”

Dean doesn’t let go of Cas as he steps backwards into the wide open stall. Their faces are close enough that Cas can see the dusting of freckles on Dean’s nose, the glint in his eyes. Cas narrows his eyes at him. “How impolite of me. May I use your shower, Cas?” Dean asks, voice rough.

Cas nods minutely.

“Will you join me?”

Cas stumbles after Dean until they’re standing under the shower head. Cas, still clothed, and Dean, in those panties. Cas groans when he thinks about the image they will make when wet.

Dean kisses him again, deep and languid as if he’s savoring his favorite meal. Why have they waited so long, Cas asks himself for the thousandth time. The movies his brother makes him watch always make it seem so easy – two people meet and fall in love and grip the newfound happiness with both hands, without a single thought about the consequences. Cas wishes he had that kind of courage. He never made a spontaneous decision in his life. Well, apart from that first day with Dean.

Dean untangles his right hand to reach for the knobs, and Cas has only time to open his mouth to warn him before the cold water rushes from the pipes. Dean squeals and jumps to the side while Cas rushes to get the settings right while standing under the ice cold spray in wet, cold clothes.

Cas shoots Dean a look which might lack in heat due to his clattering teeth and the full-body shivers, and Dean just smirks, leans against the stall and starts laughing.

“You look like a wet cat,” he rasps between chuckles.

Cas lets the warming water chase away the cold. With it, his irritation leaves as fast as it came. He’d like to come up with a witty reply, but all he can think of is how gorgeous Dean looks. So instead of answering he studies Dean in his almost naked glory. The trail of hair that leads from his chest to his groin darkens from light brown to almost black. His skin glistens under the bright bathroom lights. The lace is plastered to his skin and leaves little to the imagination.

“ _Now_ it’s the color of my eyes,” Cas says, pointing to the wet lace. It’s a weak attempt at flirting and Cas knows it, but it sparks something in Dean’s eyes as he steps closer to share the warm spray with Cas. Dean’s hand comes up to brush against Cas’ nipple, still hard from the cold and clearly visible under his wet shirt. Dean flicks against it. Cas gasps when the sharp sting spreads from his chest and heats up his skin more that the water ever could. He grabs Dean by the jaw and pulls him into another kiss. This time he sets the pace, teases Dean until he gets impatient, before he licks inside and swallows Dean’s moans.

Everywhere they touch, his skin lights up with sensation, heightened by the wet cotton that rubs against his sensitive skin. His hands travel down over Dean’s broad back, the dip of his hips to cup his ass with both hands. The motion brings their bodies closer and Dean arcs into him with a wanton little sound. Their lower bodies brush against each other, a dance almost, and Cas feels Dean filling out through the layers of wet clothing just as he hardens with each beat of his heart.

They should undress, he thinks hazily, and take this to his bed. He’d spread Dean out and cover each inch of his skin with his mouth and hands. Growing up in a catholic household, he never much cared for the spiritual. But here, with Dean in his arms, he might see the appeal to worship and loose oneself in it.

Dean rocks his hips against Cas in slow circling motions, mouth wet and open on Cas’, tongues circling almost lazily as the heat between them builds. Cas dip a finger under the edge of the panties and smiles against Dean’s mouth when Dean’s hips rock forward and he moans a request. Yeah, he’d spread Dean out and take his time with him, he thinks as he slides his index finger further down and Dean opens his stance to accommodate him.

Dean’s hand slips between their bodies to cup Cas through his wet pants and the friction is almost too much, bordering on painful, but so, so good. His finger dips between Dean’s cheeks and he circles Dean’s hole slowly, feels the furled skin and the heat of it, catches Dean’s gasps with his lips.

Water is not the best lubricant, but it’s enough to press the pad of his finger against Dean’s opening and feel it give before he slips out again. Dean moans deep in his throat and puts his free hand against the tile to balance himself, before he tugs on Cas’ wet pants until they slip down his thighs to land in a puddle at his feet. Cas’ cock springs free, and he sighs with the relief. Suddenly impatient to feel Dean skin on skin, he pushes down Dean’s panties until they sit snug under his balls, as sight so decadent that he wants to edge it into his memory forever.

They take a moment to breathe and look their fill, foreheads pressed together. Dean’s cock is thicker and heavier than Cas’, pointing straight at Cas’ stomach and weeping small drops of precome that are washed away as soon as they appear.

“That morning, at the hotel-,” Dean starts in a hoarse voice. “I thought about you, lying in that bed, and about what it’d do to you to know what I’m doing next door.”

He runs a hand over his own chest, flushed a deep red, and circles his right nipple, hums low at the feel of it.

“I leaned over the sink, on hand on the mirror, and fucked my fist thinking of you.”

Dean’s hand slides down slow, slow, mesmerizingly slow while his words sink in and Cas’ pulse picks up speed. Cas watches as Dean mimics the position, head hanging low, bottom lip sucked back behind his teeth.

“I thought about you, hard and aching, and trying not to touch yourself.”

Dean’s hand reaches his cock and closes a loose fist around it. Cas presses his hands back against the tile to keep himself from reaching out.

A slow stroke. A long exhale. Cas could’t look away if his life depended on it.

“Do you like that? Watching me?”

Cas nods. He’s lost all sense of time, staring at Dean’s groin and listening to his recollection of that first morning. He’s almost painfully hard, his cock throbbing with every pulse of his blood, but he refrains from touching himself. As much as he enjoys watching Dean, he’d feel awkward doing it himself.

“And later … I wanted nothing more than to watch you while I listened to you jerking off. I tried to picture it. Did you stand? Did you sit down? Did you bite your pretty pink lips to keep from making a sound?”

“I … I stood,” Cas mumbles, never one for dirty talk, and now, just as always, drawing a blank when the situation calls for it.

Dean doesn’t seem to mind, though. “Yeah, I thought so.”

Another stroke. The thick head of Dean’s cock vanishes in Dean’s broad fist. Dean squeezes and lets out a choked sigh.

 “Could tell the moment you couldn’t hold back those gorgeous sounds anymore.” Cas remembers the urgency to touch himself that morning, the excitement of the possibility that Dean could hear him. His hand trembles when he lifts it from the tiles.

“Bet you were leaking already when you came into the bathroom,” Dean muses, and Cas breaks. He wraps his hand around his cock, tight, just like he likes it, and groans a _yes_.

There’s a smile in his voice when Dean carries on. “Yeah, I bet you were desperate after listening to me. Show me,” he rasps, and that all it takes for Cas’ inhibitions to vanish. He blinks against the water, careful not to miss a second of Dean touching himself in front of him.

“I … could smell you,” Cas stammers as he strokes along his length and tightens his fingers around the tip.

“I came all over the sink, a few drops even hit the mirror,” Dean tells him. “I came so hard, thinking about your mouth and your hands and that angry squint you gave me at the reception, as if you wanted to bend me over your knee in front of all those people and give me a good spanking.”

Cas’ knees almost buckle at that thought. Would Dean want that? Would _Cas_ want that? His cock seems to like the idea, jerks in his hand and a new kind of heat settles in his gut. He reaches up and curls his free hand around Dean’s neck, to steady himself and because he needs the contact, feeling untethered with his climax rushing forward to meet him.

Dean lifts his chin for another kiss, nothing but tongue and teeth and spit. Their hands move in the same rhythm, and the small stall echoes with the slapping sound of wet skin on skin, the sucking noise on the upstroke, the rasp of their heavy breathing.

The kiss turns sloppy, just push of tongues and lips. The tips of their cocks bump against each other every other stroke. It’s strangely intimate, to be so close while the other one chases his release. Like everything he shares with Dean, it feels new and special. Just for them.

Cas comes first. His climax runs along his spine like lightning in slow-motion, touching each of his vertebras with electricity. He shakes with the force of it, and gasps when the tension snaps. His cock kicks in his hand as it spurts out his release all over Dean’s skin. Dean talks him through it, nonsensical encouragements between high moans.

Cas leans back against the tiles, muscles loose like jelly, and looks up to meet Dean’s eyes. The green is nothing more than a thin circle around his dark irises and his gaze is unsteady. Cas’ hand is still on Dean’s neck and he squeezes, just a little bit, just to gauge Dean’s reaction. Dean’s mouth drops open around a groan, so Cas does it again.

Dean’s eyes widen before he slips them shut. His body stills into one long line of tension. His hand stops, white-knuckled. Cas can see his climax ripple through Dean like a long wave. He decides then and there that it’s his new favorite sight on earth. Dean comes with an almost inaudible sigh, in long pulses that fall on Cas’ skin like hot wax, only there for a second before the water takes it away.

Finally spent, Dean falls into Cas’ arms, head on Cas’ shoulder, a warm weight that fits perfectly into the curve of Cas’ body. Dean nuzzles the skin of Cas’ neck and places a kiss there, and Cas’ heart leaps in his chest. Unlike the last time they held each other, this doesn’t feel like an ending.

It feels like the beginning of something, and this time, Cas will be brave enough to grasp it with both hands.

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, seems like I'll have to add another chapter to wrap this up. Good news is, the last chapter is almost finished and will be posted this week. 
> 
> Thank you all for your comments and encouragement, I would never have gotten through this without it.

They towel off in silence. Cas‘ mind is sluggish from the mind-blowing orgasm he just had, but after a while, the whole journey that led them here comes back to him. There’s a still a lot to talk about, but the mere fact that Dean is here and by his side feels like a miracle, so Cas just basks in it while he can.

Whenever he glances over at Dean, he finds him smiling a little, and Cas’ heart jumps every time he sees that curl of his lips, that warm sparkle in his eyes.

He rummages in his drawer for a pair of old sweats and a black t-shirt to wear, and when Dean slips into the clothes – a little too tight around the shoulders, a little too short on the legs – he can’t help the surge of possessiveness at seeing Dean in his clothes, in his bedroom, lips still a little puffy and wet hair sticking up in all directions.

Dean holds out his hands to the side. “Like what you see?”

Cas swallows against the sudden lump in his throat.

“Yes,” he rasps, which seems to be the exactly right reaction, because Dean puffs out his chest and grins wide at him.

Cas ponders the possibility to just walk up to Dean and push him down on his bed to pick up what they started in the shower, when a knock sounds over from the front door and there’s the telltale click of a key turning inside the lock.

Dean’s eyes widen and he lifts a curious eyebrow but Cas only groans. At least they’re both clothed. Only one person has a spare key to his house, and given how the last evening went, Cas is pretty sure why his brother is here. For a lecture on responsible drinking and to check if Cas had been mugged by Dean, most likely.

“I apologize in advance,” he has time to say before Gabe’s voice thunders through the house, calling him.

Cas turns and leaves the bedroom. “I’ll understand if you want to hide here,” he throws back over his shoulder, “I’ll try to get him to leave as soon as possible.”

But before Cas reaches the door, Dean curls a hand around his wrist to stop him. “We’ll face him together, okay?”

It’s easy for Dean to make a promise like that without really knowing Cas’ brother, but Cas is glad for the support. When they reach the living room, Dean stops dead in his tracks, because it’s not only Gabe they’re about to face. Sam is standing awkwardly next to the kitchen counter while Gabe fights with the coffee machine, cursing under his breath.

Dean makes a small noise, and Sam’s head snaps over to them, his eyes taking in Dean’s appearances from head to toe, then Cas’ disheveled state. A crease forms between his brows as if he’s trying to solve a complicated case. He crosses his huge arms over his chest and the puzzled expression gives way to condescension.

“Care to explain what’s happening here, Dean?”

Gabe saunters out of the kitchen with a steaming mug in his hand, stands very close next to Sam and copies his stance.

“Yeah, I’d really like to know, too.”

Cas rakes a hand through his damp hair. Dean is a long line of tension next to him, but he seems to think this is for Cas to answer. Cas locks eyes with him for a second, to make sure it’s okay to share with their brothers. Dean nods minutely, brows drawn up, as if he’s curious too what Cas will say.

Damn if Cas knows.

He looks over at his brother and tries in a small smile which goes unanswered. Gabe radiates worry and not a little anger, all covered up with a carefully neutral expression that may fool everyone but Cas. Gabe is loud and boisterous all of the time, and you know you’ve got a problem when he gets quiet.

“Do you remember the summer, when you booked that holiday for me?” Cas starts, and Gabe nods.

“You mean the holiday you came back from so heart-broken that I wondered if I’d have to plant surveillance in your house?” Gabe asks back through his teeth, and Cas senses Dean’s head turning to him, his gaze intense like a touch on the side of his face.

Cas nods, but Gabe isn’t done yet.

“You talking about the time you stared into space for hours and looked like a lifeless husk all the time,” Gabe’s voice is hard, and Cas hears Dean’s low gasp. A moment later, a warm hand slides against his palm and squeezes.

Cas holds on for dear life.

He clears his throat. “Uhm, yes. I met Dean at the Sunset Plaza and … we spend time together.” He risks a small glance over at Dean and holds his eyes while he says the next words. “I became intense, and I panicked for very silly reasons.” His chest aches as if his heart is pouring out through tiny cracks between his ribs, but he has to come clean about this.

“It was my fault,” he says, quiet, and more to Dean than to their brothers. “And I’m sorry I ran away.”

Dean squeezes his hand. “Forgiven,” he murmurs.

Gabe claps his hands as if he’s trying to get the attention of a bunch of four-year-olds.

“Hey, we’re not done here,” he singsongs, and Cas, for all the experience he has with Gabe’s ridiculous antics, feels his hackles rise. “So you banged and you caught feelings and then you ran. That doesn’t explain why Dean-o here chose to wait half a year to show up and snatch you – drunk and defenseless, I might add – from a party.”

Sam elbows Gabe at that. “Hey, my brother’s not a rapist, okay?” He turns back to Dean. “But, yeah, Dean, why’d you change your mind? And why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

Sam looks hurt, and Dean flinches visibly. The grip of Dean’s hand tightens to the point of almost painful. Cas steps a little to the side, until his shoulder brushes Dean’s, to comfort Dean as much as to comfort himself.

“I-,” Dean starts and looks to the ground as if the answer will miraculously appear on the grey carpet. “I told myself it was just a fling, and that Cas left because he realized this would never have a future. I figured I’d get over it with time. Sammy, you know I’m not cut out for long-term relationships. Took me six months to get to the point I said fuck it, I’ve got to try, because-“ Dean finally lifts his head to face Cas again. “I never met anyone like you, Cas. I just couldn’t let it go without at least trying to convince you to give it a shot.”

His gaze is searching when it meets Cas’.

“I want to,” Cas hears himself say, eerily detached from the scene around them.

“You have no idea how many times I was so close to calling you. Charlie nagged me constantly.” Dean stares at him, wide-eyed, as if he’s the only one at fault here. Cas messed up in equal measure.

Dean looks so lost and unsure. It’s a look Cas never wants to see again on his face, but right now, it warms him up inside, seeing how serious Dean is about this, the evidence of his emotions clear on his face, a mirror of his own desperation to make things right again.

Cas’ his right hand is curled into Dean’s, well, his own t-shirt, without a conscious thought, and then his lips are on Dean’s, as if they were made to be there. Cas ignores the gagging sounds Sam makes, as well as the _oohhs_ and _ahhhs_  Gabe provides as commentary.

Dean wants to be with him, and that’s all that matter right this moment. They’ll figure the rest out – together.

Gabe pipes up. “Okay, okay, stop it please, my blood sugar’s a problem as it is.”

Dean lets go of Cas with a smack and a blinding smile, before he faces Gabe and Sam again.

Gabe grins at Sam. “I don’t know about you, but I for one believe them. From what I hear, it’s a miracle they got their head out of their asses, and I don’t even want to know why my brother came in here with a post-coital glow and your brother’s wearing clothes that are definitely not his own. Our job here is done. How about we leave these lovebirds to it, big guy?”

Gabe has an arm slung around Sam’s middle and makes an ushering motion with his left. Sam’s looking down at Gabe with a fond little smile, nodding, and Cas has to admit, they make a pretty cute couple. The pang of jealousy he felt at the party feels like a distant memory, now that Dean’s back in his life.

“Not so fast,” Dean all but growls and waves a hand in Gabe and Sam’s general direction. “About that…”

Sam’s face settles into what can best be described as the universal _Oh shit_ -expression. Cas can relate. He’s got an older brother, too.

“Come on, Dean, really? I’m a grown person, you know –“, but Dean talks right over him, pointing a finger at Gabe. Cas, relieved that the focus shifted from him, watches his brother closely, curious how this will unfold.

“You better treat my little brother right, you hear me?” Dean all but growls and glares at them. A soft blush creeps up Sam’s neck.

“Dean, please, you don’t have to …”, Sam starts again.

“Oh yes, I have to. I let you both stand there and accuse me of assaulting a defenseless man, so I damn well have the right to say my piece.” His still outstretched index finger motions at Gabe as if Dean’s wielding a saber. “You better be serious with this, or I’ll pay you a visit, did I make myself clear?”

Gabe has the good sense to look offended and plasters on a sincere expression. “I am serious,” he says. There’s a moment of silence in which some kind of nonverbal exchange between older brothers happens. They seem to come to an understanding, reluctant respect visible on Gabe’s face, and then Gabe nods and Dean nods back.

Gabe clears his throat. “Now that we cleared that up, I want it to go on record that I was right.” He has to bend his neck to look up at Sam. “It was my idea after all to introduce them to each other. And now I have proof that they’re a perfect match, since they’re both complete idiots who should be happy we’re looking out for them.”

“I can hear you, you know?”, Dean rumbles, indignant, but is ignored.

Sam rolls his eyes and laughs, leans his arms on Gabe’s shoulders and presses a quick kiss to his forehead. “Whatever you say, babe.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's day. Have some smut.

The next summer, Dean doesn’t spend his holiday at the Sunset Plaza.

Instead, he’s lounging on a deck chair on the patio he built behind their house and sips a colorful cocktail through a straw while the moon shines over the flower beds Cas planted a few weeks back.

Against all odds and their own idiocy, they built a life together. Cas' thoughtfulness sometimes clashes with Dean’s more brash approach, but all in all they level each other out surprisingly well. There's bumps in the road of course. When Cas buries himself in a case and forgets everything around him. When they run into someone from Dean's past and Cas grips his hand a little tighter. Cas never says anything and Dean hopes it will go away with time.

He listens to the sounds from the front door where Cas sees the last guests off. From the pearls of laughter, it must be Charlie and her girlfriend. The barbeque was fun, and Dean’s heart still warms at the idea of their friends and family getting along so well, but now Dean’s happy to see them gone and be alone with Cas.

Because they have plans.

It takes way too long for Cas to come back out. That clean freak must be picking up old napkins and glasses, and Dean would help, but he’s just too cozy out here and he already did the dishes, so he just leans back and lets Cas do his thing.

A slow buzz is building from the cocktails, his limbs are loose and relaxed, but anticipation is simmering just under his skin. He lets his free hand wander aimlessly over the inseam of his shorts, just to enjoy the way his skin prickles under the touch.

Cas looked stunning today, in his light grey slacks and the soft shirt, and Dean has been ogling him the whole evening. It had been Cas’ idea to play today, while all their friends were there, and Dean had been the only one to know that Cas - cool composed Cas - wore a plug the whole time. Dean had been the only one who saw him shift slightly when he sat down, and to bite his bottom lip when he stood up. Dean had been the one who asked him to get him another beer, just to see him bend down to the fridge and hear him inhale just a little bit sharper.

Thinking back to their time at the Sunset Plaza, Dean sometimes can’t believe that this Cas is the same person that felt awkward over blowjobs. No that Dean minded at the time, in fact he loved the way Cas melted for him and allowed himself to let go just once. A lot has changed since then, though. Cas turned out to be the most responsive, eager partner Dean ever had, always shy at first to try something new, but once he made up his mind, he was a force to reckon with. Turns out, as much as Cas needs to be in control at work, he loves giving that control over to Dean once they’re home.

Sometimes.

Others, Dean finds himself kneeling on the kitchen floor with his jaw stretched around Cas’ cock, and Cas looking down at him with that shimmer in his eyes that makes Dean feel wanted and adored and completely used at the same time. He’s still bad at dirty talk, but Dean gets a specific thrill out of it when Cas can’t help himself and tells Dean how good it feels, how beautiful Dean looks when he gets his face fucked by Cas.

Dean sighs. The memories are enough to make him chub up. He runs his palm up his thigh to squeeze his dick through the thin fabric of his shorts. Cas won’t mind, and it’s his own fault Dean’s getting restless. Dean’s cock fattens under his palm, tents the fabric as he keeps up his lazy strokes. He sets down his glass. Closes his eyes. Enjoys the slow built of arousal.

When he hears footsteps approach, he doesn’t stop, instead arcs into his own touch a little for effect and lets a soft moan fall into the silence.

Cas’ breathing hitches next to him, but Dean pretends not to hear. His thumb is drawing patterns under the head, and he revels in the friction of the fabric.

The rustle of clothes is loud in the silence of the night, and _that_ gets Dean’s attention. Dean opens his eyes slowly to watch Cas unbuttoning his shirt, letting it slip over his shoulders. He’s casually stepping out of his pants. Cas’ boxer briefs drop to the floor next. The soft light from the living room illuminates his golden skin, throws shadows along his lean muscles. He’s fucking beautiful, Dean thinks, just like every single time he sees Cas naked.

“You started without me,” Cas growls, and holy shit, that tone never fails to do flippy things to Dean’s stomach.

He cocks an eyebrow and licks his lips. “You were gone an eternity,” he shoots back.

“It was five minutes, Dean.”

Definitely not shy anymore, Cas palms his own filling cock and just stands there, feet a few inches apart, on their patio, expression stormy and turned-on in equal measure.

"I still missed you. Would you hurry up and get over here.” Dean opens his hands invitingly, beans up at Cas. “If I remember correctly, we had an appointment.”

Cas seems to debate just going inside and leave Dean there, before he decides to ignore Dean’s sass and he saunters closer to straddle Dean’s thighs. He reaches over, all careful nonchalance; to take a sip from Dean’s drink.

Dean smoothes his palms over Cas’ legs, to the backside and up to his ass. Cas puts the glass down slowly.

“Did you have a good time tonight, honey?” Dean asks, looking up at Cas. “Did you enjoy being held open for me?”

He lets his voice go dark and low, because he knows exactly what it does to Cas. He’s rewarded with a shaky breath and a glare through dark lashes andthe beginning ofa smile.

Dean’s hands creep higher slowly, to part Cas’ cheeks. Cas’ mouth falls open when the motion moves the plug inside him. Dean knows exactly how he feels. The constant pressure must have driven him half-nuts over the last few hours. Dean nudges a finger against the base of the silicone, just a bit, and Cas squirms above him.

“Dean.” Cas is not begging, he never does. It’s a statement and an order, even now, when he’s completely at Dean’s mercy.

“What, Cas?” Dean nudges again, presses the plug just a little bit deeper into Cas’ body and Cas shudders with it. It’s a glorious sight.

Cas hands are on Dean’s shoulders. Their grip tightens when Dean repeats the teasing.

"You are a menace," Cas grumbles. Sweat is beading on Cas’ chest and he’s panting through his open lips.

Dean grins. "Ah, but you love me."

"Sadly, I do," Cas shoots back, but the effect is ruined by the small moan that slips in at the end of the declaration.

Dean leans up to kiss him, because he can’t not, and Cas opens eagerly, presses his tongue against Dean’s as if the touch could quench a little of his desperation. It’s wet and messy, a sexual act all in itself, especially when Cas is like this, all unmasked want.

Dean pushes his tongue deep inside Cas’ open mouth and tugs on the plug to slip it out. He swallows the deep groan Cas makes as well as the softer whimper when the plug is gone. Dean throws it aside and doesn’t wait for the wet sound it makes on the hardboard before he dips his thumb into Cas’ heat, feels him wet and loose, waiting for Dean to fill him up again.

Cas keens and throws his head back, sits down hard on Dean’s exploring finger, and honestly, Dean will never tire of this sight, of Cas taking what he wants from him.

“Dean.” Cas circles his hips, his stomach flexes with it, the grip of his hands almost painful. “I need you – ah-“

Dean replaces his thumb with two fingers, pushes them deep and at an angle he knows to hit just the right spot for Cas, whose hands are scrambling over Dean’s torso in search of something to hold onto while he rocks down hard. Cas moans, perfectly wanton, and just like that, Dean’s fed up with his own game. He may not have be the one wearing butt plug the whole evening, but he’s as desperate as Cas to get this party on the road.

He doesn’t care that he once again failed to make Cas beg – he’ll have a lifetime to achieve that goal, if Cas only lets him – and he fumbles with his free hand to shove down his shorts until his cock springs free. Looking down, he finds himself red and swollen and wet. Cas looks down, too, and his mouth slackens when Dean takes himself in hand.

Dean slips free his fingers, and a second later, Cas’ hands are back on his shoulders with renewed fervor, pressing him down against the seat, and he’s got time for one deep inhale before Cas sits up and sinks down in him, perfect heat enveloping Dean like they were made to fit like this.

Cas’ spasms tightly around him when he settles down.

“I thought about this the whole evening,” Cas rasps in a positively wrecked voice. Dean can only grab Cas’ hips and hold on, it feels so fucking good. Cas is panting, little huffs of breath that cool on Dean’s moist lips and sweaty neck, and then. Then he starts rocking Dean’s lap, driving himself down in Dean’s cock with small jerking movements, and yeah, Dean has thought about it, too, whenever he caught a glimpse at Cas tonight. To be honest, he thinks about it pretty much every time he sees Cas, at least when he’s not thinking about how glorious Cas feels inside him, pounding into him until Dean’s a babbling mess.

Dean gets lost in the wet glide of their bodies, pleasure curling around his spine in ever tighter circles. The light buzz from the drinks, the soft light and the sounds of the night give it all a surreal quality. The way Cas grinds down on him is a steady, achingly perfect torture.

Cas moans softly every time he finds the right angle to drive Dean deep. He looks stunningly beautiful, eyes closed in concentration as if he wants to commit it all to memory. Dean can feel Cas’ thighs beginning to tremble under his hands, and starts rocking up into him with short thrusts, each of them drawing those perfect little sounds from Cas that Dean can’t get enough of. Cas’ head sinks forward to his chest when he lets go, lets Dean take over, and this, this is Dean’s favorite moment, every single time they make love. He holds Cas’ hips steady as he fucks him deep and languid, just the way Cas loves to be fucked, and ignores the pulse deep in his groin that tells him he won’t last long.

“Touch yourself, Cas,” he grunts out. Sweat is beading on his neck, tingles down his back, cooling in the soft breeze.

Cas does as he’s asked, eyes open now but unseeing, that dark blue glazed over. Cas’ hand wraps around his own cock. He gathers the wetness at the tip to spread it over himself.

“That’s it, baby.” Dean lifts Cas a little to get a better range, because he’s getting really fucking close, and no one can judge him for it when Cas is jerking himself as if he’s in a trance and making all those goddamn noises. Dean needs to watch Cas unravel before he comes. He bucks up harder, panting with the effort – he might get too old for this and his body will not thank him tomorrow, thank god it’s a Sunday – but the way Cas moans at the motion is well worth it.

Cas makes a pitiful, urgent sound deep in his throat, and he’s tensing up, the movements of his hand uncoordinated. Dean thrust up steady and hard, watching in wonder as Cas climbs to the edge. His body is one long taut line. His teeth sink into his bottom lip. That storm-blue stare bores right into Dean’s soul.

Dean stops breathing, waits for Cas to topple over, wondering how it will happen today, sudden or drawn-out, with his eyes open or closed.

The orgasm ripples through Cas in a long wave, starting at his head and moving of his chest and stomach, until he pulses in his own hand, clenches long and hard around Dean. With a positively filthy groan that will haunt Dean’s favorite dreams, Cas is splattering his release all over Dean’s shirt, and Dean can’t do anything but thrust one, two more times before he’s right there with Cas, coming hard and with a guttural moan that rips right out of his lungs.

Cas collapses on top of him, uncaring about the mess between them and nuzzles into Dean’s neck with a contented sigh. Dean wraps his arms around him, lips against Cas’ soft, sweat-slick hair, rubs a hand along his back while they catch their breath. Their hearts slow down until they beat in one steady rhythm against each other.

The night air settles over them and when Cas wriggles closer in search for warmth, Dean chuckles.

“We have to get up soon,” he murmurs against Cas’ hair.

“Not yet,” Cas mumbles and presses a kiss against Dean’s pulse, so sweet and tender Dean’s heart melts with it. The moon rises over the quiet garden, and Cas is right here in his arms, and he still can’t believe his luck.

With a silent thanks to that bug in the reservation system that made their paths cross, he holds Cas just a little bit tighter.

He smiles into the skin of Cas’ neck. “Not yet.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A deep-felt thanks to everyone who commented and followed this story, for all the support here and over on tumblr. I was so close to giving up on this so many times and y'all made me pull through. One day, I might straighten this out into something more coherent, but for now, I'm happy it's finished, and I hope you enjoy.
> 
> I'm already working on a new story, and I will be joining the Destiel Harlequin Challenge this summer. If you don't wanna miss it, consider subscribing [here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch/profile).

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [procasdeanating](https://procasdeanating.tumblr.com) on tumblr. Come say hi!


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